Bridget Jones's Diary: The Prospect of Fate
by writer007
Summary: Bridget Jones believes that her life is now, finally complete. With a wedding and baby on the way, what more could she ask for? Little does she know, the chaos and diasters have just begun.
1. Part 1: Promising New Year

**Bridget Jones's Diary: The Prospect of Fate**

_Friday 2 January_

130 lbs. (alert! alert!), boyfriends 1 (record second year in a row! despite break-up in the middle, but will ignore), shags 2 (purrrr), calories 4150 (but left-over holiday celebration), cigarettes 2 (v.g.), alcohol units countless (cannot remember due to festivities), chance of being Bridget Darcy extremely high (in own opinion)

**Food consumed:**

Entire box of chocolate truffles (courtesy of Mark Darcy, must consume to show appreciation or else Mark Darcy might be quite offended and think do not appreciate. Besides, was quite delicious.)

12 cold new potatoes

Bottle of champagne in which Mark brought over and consumed together in spirit of post-Christmas happiness and leading to fantastic---a bit drunken---shag

Lump of cheese found in fridge in middle of the night while up for some water

2 Pizzas

**2 p.m.** Absolutely delightful holiday well spent with Mark Darcy and his Newcastle boxers. Had the misfortune to attend annual Turkey Curry Buffet last night in which Uncle Geoffrey had a new question to ask, "So, when are you two going to tie the knot?" Mark happened to be helping himself to some curry and I just casually shrugged and tried to laugh as if thinking whole idea never popped into head, "Oh, I don't know."

"Better do it soon, you're nearly upon death age in prehistoric times," Una interrupted.

Gee. Thanks. Now I feel like the walking dead, coming back to haunt everyone gathered for Turkey Curry. It's like Cathy blinding falling on Heathcliff's roof and muttering his name.

Fortunately, Mark and I left early with excuse of snow storm picking up and drove back to my flat, had some pizza, champagne and shagged all night in the warmth while outside was blizzard like the Ice Age.

Can hear Mark Darcy shaving in the bathroom with portable, electric razor. Hmm…just remembered self had no shaved in quite some time due to winter and wearing pants. Gaah! Gaah! Looked at legs and found them to be quite hairy and mammoth looking. Surely legs could not have been preparing for new Ice Age? Only fear in mind is that Mark Darcy, who might make me the future Mrs. Bridget Darcy saw mammoth hair legs which is why he must be shaving as it reminded him of the task and also is very quite and not speaking as probably disgusted with the amount of hair.

Quickly wrapped blanket around legs and hopped into the bathroom.

"So you're awake, darling." He smiled.

Ah, he is acting normal! Perhaps did not see legs after all and thought that he felt his own hairy legs in the middle of the night although would be very weird as feeling hairy legs but not feeling ones own. Or sort of. Anyway.

Hopping along to edge of bathtub to find razor and shaving gel.

"Bridget," said Mark pausing in the middle of his shave. "Why do you have a blanket wrapped around your self?"

"I need to shave and I don't want you to see." I said with as much normalness and dignity as possible.

"Well, wouldn't you have to remove the blanket in order to shave?" He gave an amused smile.

Humph.

Did finally drop blanket (although part of it fell in toilet and will have to super wash blanket now) and surprisingly, Mark did not fall order in state of shock. In fact, he finished his shave and headed to the kitchen. Hmm. Is he falling into the state of "grantedness" in which he has now begun to take me for granted and is not noticing things about me?

Hmm.

**6 p.m. **Mum called, "Hello, darling guess what?"

"What?" I asked.

"Don't say what darling, say 'pardon'. It is much more polite, Bridget," she replied. "Anyway, Una and I have massive amounts of leftover Turkey Curry because we thought we only prepared 2 turkeys but it turned out that we prepared 4 as when we put the first two turkeys in the oven, we thought we didn't have any and went to the store and got two more!" she laughed at herself and continued, "Anyway, I will just pop over and drop off some turkey curry, wouldn't you like that?"

"Uh…well, I have a lot of food already…"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous Bridget, I know that you can't cook. Anyway, see you in a bit!"

Ugh. Mum has this cunning way to ask you if something is okay and then lead you to agree without you actually saying so. Told Mark that Mum is coming over with Turkey Curry because I cannot cook and he just laughed and said that would be fine. Tried to clean up flat but the more I tried to put things away, the more trouble I had in deciding where to put things and ended up having a disordered mess of things in different places.

Decided in midst of it all to calm self by making list of New Year's Resolutions:

-Lose 10 pounds

-Drink no more than 2 alcohol units a day.

-Exercise at least twice a week.

-Make sure flat stays clean and also since hole in wall is now fixed to never pay up front in cash for any big service again.

-Will not be late to work

-Be well read in novels such as…er…well, will ask Mark about it later.

-Be lovely girlfriend to Mark Darcy

-Will be more calm and graceful and will not embarrass self with situations such as having hole in front of dress or flooding the apartment when locked self out and bath was running.

-Organize closet

-Learn to cook descent meal

Mark was reading over my shoulder. "Be lovely girlfriend to Mark Darcy," he read outloud, obviously quite pleased that he was on list. "Hmm, better started my own resolutions. Let's see: 1) love Bridget Jones 2) will not suffer from miscommunication with Bridget Jones again 3) will ask Bridget whether or not she can ski before surprising her with trip 4) kiss Bridget Jones…" he then tilted me back like they do in the movies sometimes and snogged me until I thought I couldn't breathe. Wow. Was going to grab him into another promising shag when doorbell ran.

Mum was here to deliver Turkey Curry.


	2. Thursday 15 January

**Thursday 15 January **

_129 lbs. (2 weeks of effort and only improvement of one measly pound), alcohol units 5 (good), cigarettes 8 (will stop soon), days until Valentine's day: 29 _

**8:30 a.m. my flat.** Is ready to leave for work in promptness. Hair flat and not springing in wild directions, dressed, found purse and keys and going to get chocolate croissant and cappuccino in café.

**8:40 a.m. in Coins Café.** Grr. Very long line. But no matter, will wait as is super early for work.

**9:00 a.m.** finally got cappuccino and chocolate croissant. Sat down to eat in peace when suddenly, out of nowhere Vile Richard comes in with an attractive woman laughing at something he said and looking up at him with love in her eyes. Instantly felt a surge of anger and shock. How dare he! He only married Jude about a month ago and now acting all fresh with this stranger. Well, Jude is one of my best and oldest pals (not that she is old in age but merely in acquaintance) and marched up to the table where Vile Richard gave me a smile like, 'What is silly little Bridget going to do about this?'

He began, "This is---"

But I cut him off. "Oh please. Jude might be completely blind by your unfaithfulness and total disregard for the seriousness of marriage commitment but I am not. Mark my words, I will tell her that you have been creeping around with this bimbo and we'll see how long you will be married. And when she divorces you and leaves you crying by yourself she will get everything. The house, the alimony, the car…." I paused, thinking of what else a divorced woman might get.

"Bridget," said Vile Richard in a serious tone. "This is my cousin Bertha."

Stared at Bertha who looked truly offended at bimbo comment.

"Oh, right." I muttered. "Sorry about that. Ahem. Well, must be off to work now. Ahem."

Left while feeling totally foolish. Definitely breaking New Year's resolution of being graceful and calm. No matter, will have cigarette and buy newspaper to cheer up for a bit.

**10:20 a.m.** Gaah! Gaah! Late for work!

**5 p.m.** Jude called. "Bridget, Richard told me about what happened."

"Sorry, Jude. It's just that when I saw Richard I----well, we all know of Richard's bad reputation----er….well actually, she didn't really look like his relative----well you should have seen the way they were acting, some people marry their cousins-----" I shut up.

"Well, I forgive you. Anyway, just called to let you know that I am pregnant!"

Stared at phone in disbelief.

Jude? Having Vile Richard's baby?

There was a long pause.

"Bridget?"

"Is that why you got married?" I ask suspiciously.

"No, of course not, silly! Anyway, have not told Richard yet because Bertha is visiting, but isn't this great?"

"Will the baby look like Vile Richard?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. Won't that be cute?" she asked in a girly tone. Have never heard Jude act like this before.

"Well…" I didn't answer. "Congratulations."

"Oh you're fantastic Bridget. Anyway, why don't we all go out for dinner? Already called Shazzer and Tom."

"Would love to." I responded.

**10:00 p.m.** Whole dinner consisted of Tom suggesting baby names in form of his own (ie: Thomas, Tommy, Tomena, etc.) and Shazzer and I just being in state of shock. Jude asked us not to smoke because she feared she could have a retarded baby. Shazzer gave me a look and we both knew that with Vile Richard's genes, anything is possible with or without outside influences.

Got home to answer machine flashing. Message from Mark.

"Remember when I asked you about Thailand? Well, apparently the whole case got postponed because his wife turned out to be a lesbian and therefore did not cheat on him with his boss and therefore could not have been cause of murder. It's all extremely complicated. Wondering if you would be interested in taking a minibreak with me anyway to go hiking. I think it would be fun, call me back."

Hiking? Lesbian wife? Called Mark back.

"Hello?"

"It's me," I said.

"Oh, hello Bridget, I suppose you got my message?"

"Yes, I think hiking is very interesting although I've never tried it."

"Great! We can go next weekend!"

Told him about Jude's surprising announcement.

Mark's reaction was, "Hmm…does Richard know?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, tell Jude congratulations from me."

All of the sudden I longed for Mark and I to get together and start our own family! Why is it that everyone seems to be married except for me? Tried to hint at it without really saying it.

"Mark…" I said carefully. "Where do you think our relationship is going?"

"Going, darling?" He asked, bemused.

"Yes, do you think it's going….somewhere?"

"As far as I know it's staying in England."

Honestly. For a brilliant lawyer, Mark can be a bit dense sometimes.

"Well, where do you see us…let's say…." I didn't want to alarm him with years. "4 months from now?"

"What is it Bridget? Why are you asking?"

"I don't know."

Pause.

"I assure you that I am not going back to Rebecca."

"Oh, I know!" I replied, but secretly feeling very relieved as suspected he might be interested.

"Don't worry about it darling. I have a bit of work to do, but I will see you for dinner tomorrow, say around eight?"

"Okay." I said.

"Great, I'll work out the hiking details. I love you, Bridget."

"Thanks." I responded in a soft voice.

There was a pause. Then he said a bit stiffly, "Er…bye then."

Hmm…wonder why he was so stiff. Went to pick up blanket from laundry room. Blanket is still damp even though has been in dryer forever. Put back for another 30 minutes.


	3. Friday 16th January

**Friday 16th January**

****

_127 pounds.__ (Two pounds seem to have magically evaporated in middle of the night. Did not exercise or shag. Only breathed. Does air really weigh that much? Oh no. Just had sudden thought. What if I am really an 'airhead' and was just letting out my extra air weight?)_

**11 a.m.** work. Am doing brilliant project on ocean life introducing the new 'Save Our Ocean' campaign to stop the killing of animals in ocean. Very professional. Went to beach in scuba outfit preparing to dive into ocean.

"4…3…2….1…go! go!" new executive, Margaret Grant yelled into my earpiece.

"Right.." I responded ran to the edge of the ocean and jumped in, swimming into the freakin' freezing waters and remembered that it was January. Never less continued swimming. Was I supposed to look for animals? Whales? Happy dolphins swimming?

"This is Bridget Jones giving you an exclusive look at the ocean!" I shouted and then plunged into the water with my goggles. Could not see a bloody thing. Cameraman had underwater camera and started shooting my progress. Swam deeper into the ocean and suddenly realized did not have air. Panicked and started kicking up to surface to breathe.

"Bridget, _breathe using your tank_!" Margaret Grant hissed into my earpiece.

'Right', I thought blaming myself for stupidity. Took huge breath and suddenly gagged, choking on salt water and eyes watering in pain in process of choking out water and could not breathe and trying to kick up to surface. Thought lungs would burst. In process of choking, only swallowed more water. Cameraman thought I was having a seizure and with the camera thrown over his shoulder, he carried in his other arm and swam up to the surface in which self took a huge breath of air and then some more salt water splashed into mouth.

"Bridget J-Jones…"I coughed and then took another breath. "Live coverage from ocean and underwater life! Now back to the studio!" I yelled as desperately trying to wiggle out of cameraman's grip around self and trying to tell him I wasn't in process of seizure.

**7 p.m.** Great. Apparently new executive Margaret Grants thinks that I am absolutely 'inexperienced' in TV production and has given me a 'warning' on making sure I would never behave like an idiot on TV again. On the brighter side, Mark Darcy is coming over for dinner in one hour!

Will prepare wonderful dinner of…hmm…will look in fridge.

Contents of fridge includes wine, champagne, half a leftover pizza, two brown bananas, old bread, expired milk, some leek and 1 egg. Hmm…

**7: 10 p.m.** Ordered Chinese.

**8: 10 p.m.** Mark came over looking very stressed and immediately grabbed me into snog. Mmm. He is so sexy when he is stressed, looking all professional in his suit and two top unbuttoned buttons. He threw his briefcase on floor and took off jacket.

"You remember Natasha darling?" he asked, giving me an amused look.

"Yes," I answered suspiciously, wondering why he would bring her up.

"She's engaged. She invited us to her engagement party next month."

Why does everyone seem to be getting bloody engaged or having a baby except me, Bridget Jones?

"That's great!" I replied, smiling outwardly and feeling like a spinster inside. "Who is she getting married to?"

"Some Charlie Bennet chap. Supposedly very well-off doctor. Anyway, do you want to go to their engagement party, Bridget?"

Images of Mark Darcy's parents' ruby wedding anniversary came into mind in which I had the misfortune of being nearly shagged by a minor and Natasha commenting on my last season dress. But then again I can show up being Mark Darcy's girlfriend in front of Natasha. Ha.

"Hmm..okay." I answered.

**10 p.m.** Mark is certainly a very naughty boy. Mmm…

**Tuesday 20th January**

_127 lbs, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 19, calories 990 (v.v.g.), 25 days until Valentine's Day, 3 days until hiking trip (gaah!)_

**6 p.m.** What does one wear to go on a hiking trip? Went through closet and rummaged through shoes and shirts and short black skirts. Will definitely need to have good pants. Hiking pants. Wonder if need emergency ropes and matches as well. Oh well, much too early to worry about that sort of stuff. Although this will be excellent excuse to call Mark Darcy, top lawyer and human rights fighter to ask opinion and perhaps have a bit of evening shag. Besides, have bit of a cold and need his warmth.

**6:05 p.m.** Rang Mark's cellphone.

Mark: Hello? This is Mark Darcy.

Me: Hello, it's me.

Mark: Shannon?

Omg. Omgomgomg.

Who is Shannon?

Without thinking, I hung up.

**6:30 p.m.** Have been moping around having wild nightmares about Mark Darcy being engaged to Shannon, wonderful beautiful insect figure Shannon. Probably his secret secretary. Maybe that's why he works so much. Huh. Probably shagging her and then comes over and uses me to be his little kitchen maid, cooking for him and taking care of him, oh…oh….

Life must go on. Secretly, deep down, I still care for him. Even though he should die. Bridget Jones is certainly not one to be used. Much reminded of Daniel Cleaver.

**6:35 p.m.** I hate him! I hate him! Mark Darcy is nothing but an arrogant snob who hangs around a bunch of boring, old lawyers who does not know anything outside of their work. Mark Darcy is an underpants-folding-can't-talk-to-you-while-watching-football-dull-and-uptight-bubblebee socks wearing jerk!

**6:36 p.m.** Oh, I love him. I love him.

**6:40 p.m.** Just ate entire pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

**7:05 p.m.** Phone rang. Didn't bother answering it. Probably Mark announcing that we need to break up and to tell me of his engagement with Shannon. Sort of like déjà vu.

"Hello? Bridget?" went Mark on the answer machine. For a second there I thought of lunging at the phone to talk to him, but restrained myself. "Um, guess you're not there. You didn't happen to have called me earlier did you? I got a funny call. It might have been you, although it didn't sound like you…."

That was it. I picked up the phone.

"Who is Shannon?" I demanded.

"Bridget, are you alright? You sound so…low."

"I have a cold." I answered curtly.

"Oh! That would explain it then."

"Humph. You still didn't answer my question."

"Oh darling, Shannon is just one of my colleagues. She just happens to be a middle aged woman who likes to call me to remind me consistently about turning in my report on the Laurenson case----look, don't be mad. Listen, why don't you go to bed and rest yourself?"

"Okay."

Humph. Felt like complete idiot. Again.

7:30 p.m. Hurrah! Have most wonderful (and forgiving) boyfriend in the entire world. Mark came over and brought me soup and chocolate. Yum…He didn't even seem to mind that I looked like crap.


	4. Sunday 25th January

**Sunday 25th January **

_128 lbs. (exhausted from hiking up enormous mountain size of Everest), alcohol units 0, cigarettes 0, calories 1000 (mostly trail mix), number of pants ruined 1_

I really love Mark. Or else I would not have dragged myself to hike with him. He is very fit and enjoyed going up oversized rock. I dragged myself along, pretending to love the scenery and not to mind that I am in great need to sit down with glass of wine and _Pride and Prejudice. _Will definitely start going to the gym when this is over.

Stumbled on rock and fell on bottom scratching at new hiking pants. Mark saw me, laughed and helped me up.

"All right, Bridget?" he asked.

Explained that although he might be quite fit and like other people such as Michael Phelps, but some people are not born to be mountaineers. Also told him of really bad mountain climbing accidents in which lungs might burst when oxygen supply gets short or if accidentally fall off.

After I finished, Mark said, "Bridget, you don't need to worry. We're not at high enough altitude for your lungs to burst and you can't fall off as we are not climbing a vertical slope. This is a hiking trail. There are many people who have hiked here before, including me."

Finally reached the top where there was a café. Mark bought us both smoothies and then we came down the mountain in the cable car.

Felt better once we got back to my flat. Ordered pizza and poured us both some chardonnay.

**Tuesday 26th, January **

_128 lbs. (mountain hiking seemed to have no effect on weight)_

**8 a.m.** Up at the crack of dawn for work today. See, this is how I am to live life from now on. Early to bed and early to rise makes someone good and wealthy with something-err, don't remember the rest of it. Brushed teeth and looked for suitable panties to wear. Ah, yes, have no suitable panties so must wear scary pants. Every time I wear nice panties, I don't get shagged, yet every time I wear these scary pants I seem to. V. bizarre.

**9 a.m.** Work. Wow, looked at the clock a few times to make sure I am not dreaming. Yes, Bridget Jones is at work at the crack of dawn.

**10 a.m.** Am sorting through billions of advertisements. Margaret didn't even notice my earliness today, just dumped a pile of ads on my desk and snapped, "Get these organized before noon, we're to print out by tomorrow."

**10:30 a.m.** Lots of advertisements on Valentine's Day. Hmm…wonder if Mark will be planning anything special. Last year's ski mini-break was lovely, although I had the misfortune of not knowing how to ski.

**Saturday 30th, January**

**5 p.m. My flat.** Today was absolutely exhausting. Went shopping with Magda for perfect dress to wear to Natasha's wedding. Vow to never be looked down by her snobbish, upturned nose. But then again, now that I have Mark, I have no reason to be jealous.

We hunted through about 30 stores browsing for perfect gowns and every time I found one I like, there seemed to be a problem with it. Magda says I should not wear black to a wedding for tradition, but then, black is what makes people look skinny. I protested, but Madga insisted that I pick another color.

Finally, she picked out a turquoise v-neck, A-line skirt which included a corset. She says it will allow me lose ten pounds instantly. Reminded her of the last incident in which I had to take ten minutes to take the dress off and put the dress on and had unfortunate crosses on my skin afterwards. She asked me if I wanted to look fabulous or not. So finally, tried on the dress with Madga pulling on the corset strings and me nearly suffocating. Then we both looked into the mirror and although I could hardly breathe, I did look ten pounds lighter. Purchased dress and brought it home.

**7 p.m.** Mark Darcy has not stopped by flat ever since the hiking mini-break. Do not know what has happened between us. Perhaps he decided that I was extremely embarrassing to be around or that I may be insane.

**7:10 p.m.** Perhaps he has gone off to buy early Valentine's Day surprise!

**7:30 p.m**. What should I give Mark Darcy for Valentine's Day? After the gorgeous mini-break he gave me last year, surely I could do something lovely in return. Something better than some chocolate.

**7:40 p.m**. Thinking with glass of chardonnay and cigarette.

**7:55 p.m.** Yes, got it! Will prepare nice, Valentine breakfast in bed for Mark and then take him out for arranged carriage ride, ending up in the park where we will go for romantic stroll and then present him with gift of cologne and boxers. Hope all will go well.


	5. Saturday 13th February

**Saturday 13th, February**

_130 pounds (oh.__ God. Bottom gives strong impression of enormous bathtub) alcohol units 5, cigarettes 12, calories 1 billion. 1 day until Valentine's Day. Early valentines: 0. _

**2 p.m.** Went grocery shopping for tomorrow's picnic. Bought bread and deli meats for sandwiches, fruits, pickles, some bottled water and pre-packaged salad. Also bought some eggs, English muffins and coffee for breakfast. Hope that Mark remembers tomorrow's important day. Will be horrible if showed up at his place and he asking me why I am there so early as do not usually get up before eight on weekends.

**4 p.m.** There. Made sandwiches and fruit salad. Also packed everything in picnic basket. Had glass of wine to celebrate. Ooh, phone!

**4:10 p.m.** Was Shazzer. Had Valentine's Day crisis. She was upset that Simon had to suddenly leave town for business trip and would not be present tomorrow. "He just wants to get out of Valentine present exchanging, that bloody cheap creep," She hissed into the phone. "Fuckin' inconsiderate."

Made her feel better by saying that Mark has not talked of Valentine's Day at all to me and invited her over. After hung up phone, realized that was indeed worried of the horror of Mark _really_ forgetting about Valentine's Day. And if he did, should I forgive him or hold a grudge for a reasonable amount of time to make him feel guilty? Of course, the whole jeopardy of breaking up is to be considered. Hmm, think will have some more wine and cheese on crackers.

**9: 00 p.m.** Shazzer and I were just in the middle of watching Pride and Prejudice and rewinding the scene where Mr. Darcy jumps into the lake where her cell rang. Was Simon and asked her if she could give him a lift to the airport. She looked at the phone and then looked at me. Then she looked at the phone and gave me a pleading look.

"Alright, alright, go with him." I said.

She left.

**10:21 p.m.** Am alone on Valentine's Day eve. Mark Darcy is thoughtless boyfriend who probably forgot the importance of love. Probably sitting at home watching game on television and forgetting about me. Humph.

**Sunday 14, February**

**9: 30 a.m.** Gaah! Overslept! No matter. Will hurry to toast English muffins and make scrambled eggs.

**9: 41 a.m.** Where is the bloody frying pan?

**9: 43 a. m**. Ah, here it is. So this should be easy. Also will put muffins in toaster. Should be at Mark's in 30 minutes, tops. Wonder if should ring him. Am extremely upset that he has not mentioned Valentine's Day at all.

**9: 55 a.m.** Scrambled eggs did not turn out well. Am too runny on one side, yet the other half is burnt. Have no idea how happened. Oh well. Will take delicious English muffins and buy cappuccino on way to Mark's as cannot waste anymore time.

**10: 34 a.m.** Arrived at Mark's with breakfast in hand, ringing doorbell. Mark opened door and said astonishingly, "Hello, Bridget." All the sudden felt very embarrassed as instead of greeting me with, "Happy Valentine's Day" he looked at me in a bizarre, surprised look such as the first time we meet and I rambled on about New Year's Resolutions. Thought of just going straight home, but am brave pioneer and if Mark Darcy has forgotten the importance of love, Bridget Jones at least has remembered. Will just give him muffins and cappuccino and leave. I held out the muffins in which I wrapped in napkins in a small basket with the cappuccinos.

"I brought you breakfast today," I said in a huff. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Then I turned to leave.

Mark suddenly called out, "Bridget! Bridget!"

Turned back and looked at him.

"Bridget, I already had breakfast…but thank you. Would you like to come in?" he asked.

**11: 35 a.m. **Mark has reservations to take me out to a Valentine's Day dinner and he also has a surprise for me. Hurrah! Told him of picnic and we went out strolling at a nearby park when suddenly remembered forgotten picnic basket. Also remembered that forgotten to arrange carriage ride. Told Mark all this, but he said it didn't matter because he thought that taking a stroll with me was wonderful and snogged me in the middle of the park. Wished could have gone home right there and snagged all night, but instead it started _raining_. Oh god. Mark and I ended up running and ended up at small café to have lunch. Was both soaking wet and I had bad hair. Neverless, we both laughed and snogged again. Sigh, love having thoughtful and funny boyfriend.

**2: 30 p.m. **After lunch Mark asked if he could drop me off and then pick me up for dinner later. Said yes as would give me time to get dressed. He said he was taking me to La Rouge. Wonder how he ever got reservations to that place. Am v. excited.

**3: 55 p.m.** After showering and blow-drying hair have hardest time deciding what to wear. Heard phone and picked up, "Bridget Jones."

"Bridget? This is Natasha."

Gaah!

"Yes?" I answered. "How, er, surprising to hear from you!"

"Yes, well I tried to call Mark, but I couldn't reach him. You two are coming to my engagement party?"

"Uh…yes, yes! Of course, I remember," I reply, forgetting all about it. "This month."

"Yes, it's on the twenty second. I will put you and Mark down then. Charlie and I have Valentine plans. What are you doing at home, Bridget? Well, have to go. Ta-ta!" And she hung up.

Why, why did she always made me feel like a complete idiot? Wish could have interrupted her with _my_ Valentine plans with Mark to La Rouge. Humph. Oh well, still trying to decide what to wear as La Rouge is highly, classy restaurant in which celebs such as Colin Firth goes sometimes.

**4: 31 p.m.** Wore black, strapless, long dress and pair of spin-off of Gucci pumps. Am v. excited about dinner. Wonder how to do hair. Could leave down while it cascades around my shoulders but felt that I should put it up.

**5 p.m. **Hair is definitely not working. Called Jude for help.

**5: 30 p.m.** The first thing Jude said when she saw me was, "Bloody hell Bridget. What on earth did you do to your hair?"

**6: 20 p.m.** Hair is ready and looks v. elegant in manner of Renee Zellweger when she won that award for that movie. Perfect timing as well as still have forty minutes to spare before dinner reservations. Mark should be here in twenty minutes. Hmm, think will calm self by making sure Mark's present is wrapped.

**6: 25 p.m.** Yes, boxers and cologne are both wrapped nicely. Think will have just a bit of chardonnay to calm down. Maybe will see Colin Firth at La Rouge! But must concentrate on Mark as he is boyfriend and Colin Firth probably does not know I exist.

**6: 27 p.m.** However, will be hard to resist the hero of Pride and Prejudice.

**6: 45 p.m.** Mark still not here. Unusual of him to be late. Hope he is O.K.

**7: 10 p.m**. At restaurant. Mark arrived to flat with elegant bouquet of roses. Presented him with boxers and cologne in which he said was "extremely thoughtful" and also that he hoped to try on the boxers tonight. V. much in love with boyfriend. Cannot think of anything else.

**7: 20 p.m.** No sign of Colin Firth or any other celebs of the sort. No matter. Menu is composed of French dishes. Do not understand why the menu is written entirely in French if restaurant is not in France. This is Britain. Honestly.

**7: 45 p.m.** Mark ordered lovely bottle of wine and also our courses. Did not know he spoke French or _parlez__ francais_ as he told me. Starting telling him extremely funny joke of a French snail, but he didn't seem to hear what I said. He was looking at me and seemed to be listening, but after I finished he did not laugh. He just kept on looking at me and I thought I might have had something on my face.

"Bridget Jones, meeting you at that turkey curry buffet was certainly the most interesting encounter I have ever come upon." He took my hand underneath the table. "Do you feel that you could love this dull barrister for years to come?"

"Mark, you are not a dull barrister." I answered although he can be a bit of a prick.

We held hands under the table and I wanted to shag him right there. We held an amazing gaze into each other's eyes. Literally felt my breath being taken away. Off it goes to Thailand or somewhere of the sorts.

"I was going to wait until after dinner, but I'm so nervous I can't eat." Mark tried to laugh.

Huh?

"Bridget…" Mark began.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. I knew what was happening.

Mark gripped my hand tighter and said in a soft whisper,

"Will you marry me?"


	6. Part 2: A Whole Big Mess

**Tuesday 16th, February**

****

_Times looked at engagement ring: probably a million and seven. Times shagged Mark Darcy since Valentine's Day: 8 (forgot was on earth) Calories consumed within the last 24 hours: 560. Yes, I have finally found the secret to dieting success: being engaged to Mark Darcy._

**Noon.** Spent lunch hour fantasizing about being a married woman to Mark Darcy. Should I be Mrs. Bridget Darcy? Mrs. Bridget Jones Darcy? Ooh, phone!

**1: 30 p.m.** Magda was in tears. Jeremy is being a 'selfish bastard', living her at home for three weeks while he goes to America for an extended business seminar.

"I am stuck at home with children, changing diapers and moping up messes while he stays at a grand hotel in New York, have conversations with people about careers and ideas and I have to talk to children who cannot differentiate pronouns yet!" she wailed into the phone.

"Think of this time as enjoyment without having another person to cook for." I suggested, trying to keep my voice low. Margaret Grant's office (with glasses windows and doors, unfortunately) was right across from my cubicle. She was yakking on the phone and looking extremely frustrated.

"Bridget, you don't know how lucky you are…with your career and your…put it back! Put it back! Do you hear me? Do not drop that! You better put it back!"

Waited for Magda to sort out crisis and looked down on engagement ring again.

"Can I call you back, Bridget?" Magda asked distractedly into the phone. She hung up before I could reply.

No sooner did she hang up did my phone ring again.

"Hello darling, guess what?"

Ugh.

"Yes, mum?" I asked, fearful of what she was going to say.

"Well, I was meeting Elaine Darcy for lunch this afternoon and do you know what she said to me?" Mum asked in a very offended tone.

Oh no.

Please…please, Mark did not already tell his parents. Mum would never forgive me if I did not tell her of my engagement. Years and years, she's been pushing me to date Mark and possibly performing every sort of voodoo she could get her hands on to marry off her daughter, Bridget I-am-still-single Jones.

"Well…" Mum began slowly. "She told me that----"

"I'm engaged!" I interrupted.

Ha! Told Mum before she had time to accuse me of leaving her out of my life and sobbing, being dramatic of all sorts.

There was a very still silence at the end of the phone.

"Hello? Hello?" I called out. Oh my god. Perhaps she had gone to prepare the wedding already.

Then came the loudest shriek I've ever heard from the other side of the telephone.

"Oh Bridget!" Mum gasped and then said anxiously, "I've better go call everyone we know! Oh, there's so much to do! When are you two getting married? Are you pregnant? Is that why? Oh it doesn't matter anyway, Mark's very well to do. Oh, I'm so excited. I haven't been this excited since I went to Africa and brought back Wellington. I've better start planning the wedding. We must get this underway soon. You know that you're almost barren? How unfortunate. Well, there's Una. Have to go, tata!"

She hung up.

**Thursday 18th, February**

**7 p.m**. Mark came over for dinner and after snogging, he asked me if I knew that my mother was calling him several times a day demanding to know the wedding date.

"Er…" I said.

"Bridget, I really wish you would have discussed the details with me before telling your mother. She's very…anxious."

"Right." I said and carefully added, "So when is the wedding date?"

Didn't want to sound too anxious. Didn't want to sound too desperate, when all I wanted to do is to be Mrs. Darcy with loving, loyal, top-barrister husband taking mini-breaks every month to exotic places like Cancun or Australia. Then instead of, "You know Bridget Jones? The one that is still single in her thirties?" it would be, "You know that well-off Bridget Jones who married Mark Darcy, top-barrister, human rights lawyer with a huge mansion and is currently on vacation in Switzerland?"

"I was thinking summer, you Bridget?" Mark asked, taking off his jacket and tie. _Ding-dong!_

He threw his briefcase to the side and sat down on the couch in a very sexy sort of way, clearly a man who spent the hours helping thousands of victims at his law office.

"Bridget?" Mark asked again. He grinned at my expression.

"Oh, right." I stammered out. "Sure."

"Come here," Mark said to me, reaching over to pull me into his lap. "I'm sure the finer details of our wedding will be sorted out."

Was in the middle of a very promising snog which might lead to shagging when phone rang.

"Hello darling, guess what?"

"Hello mother." I said dully, wishing I could crawl back in Mark's arms in privacy and silence.

"So…when is the wedding date?"

"Uh…summer."

"But _when_, darling. I'm asking for precise dates here so I could make arrangements for the band!"

"The band?"

"Well, Una and I have decided to sing at your wedding!"

Bloody hell.

Mark was kissing my neck and I kept turning away from him so I could have a sane conversation.

"Look, mum. Could I call you back later? We can discuss the details over the weekend maybe."

"But I need to know now darling so we could practice! Your Uncle Geoffrey could play the drums!"

"Mother, do not under any circumstances make Uncle Geoffrey play the drums and please do not sing. It is not necessary."

"Don't be ridiculous darling! You'll need music at your wedding! Have you picked out a dress yet? You could wear mine you know, I've always wanted to pass it on."

"Mother, I do not want a dress that is forty years old." I said desperately. "Could I call you back?"

"Nonsense, I will get your dress all fixed up and you'll see how absolutely lovely it is going to be!"

"Alright, alright. Look, I've put the kettle on and the water is spilling over, could I ring you back in a jiffy?"

After letting her go on for another ten minutes, finally hung up the phone and returned back to Mark who was looking at me with a very amused grin on his face.

"I'm surprised your mother doesn't want us to elope over night." Mark teased.

"Oh, shut up Mark and go back to your work." I said smiling, pulling him down over me.

**2 a.m.** Phone. Who the bloody hell could be calling at this hour? Mark made a small noise and tried pulling me back to bed. Reached for phone and said groggly, "Hello?"

"Bridget, you've got to come get me out of here!" Tom's voice.

"Where are you? Are you alright?" I asked, panicked. Where could Tom be at three o' clock in the morning?

"Jerome asked me to go to America! He wants to make up! But I've come here and everything is all wrong. Apparently he is interested in having another bloke Rob," Tom made a retching noise. "in a three-some relationship. I said no! Obviously. It could ruin my image! And the sun is bloody awful. I keep getting these sunburns. Bridget, I have no money, I need a plane ticket! Could you order one for me? I'll pay you back in England."

"Tom it is two in the morning!" I hissed.

"Oh is it? It's very sunny and clear out here." Tom said.

I groaned. "Will you check the time changes before you call? Look. Give me your number and I'll call you back in the morning after I looked up tickets. Where are you anyway?"

"L.A. Is Mark Darcy there? He's such a catch."

"Good bye Tom." I said after he gave me the digits.


	7. Monday 22nd, February

**Monday 22nd, February**

_131 lbs. How? Why? On the evening on an important social occasion, the very first in which I will be Mrs. Soon-to-be-Mark-Darcy? Times spent going to the bathroom and doing fast running in place exercises and weighing myself afterwards: 9_

**4 p.m.** Work. Apparently it seems that everyone knows of my engagement. Do not know how, yet do not really care as I had opportunity to show off engagement ring to at least ten coworkers today. Finally, I can be smug and not pointed at by smug-married couples unless they wanted to show their ridiculousness by being completely hypocritical, yet I will never become a smug-married since I do remember days in life of being single. Margaret Grant actually had the nerve to come up to me and asked what months I will be taking off.

"What?" I repeated, confused.

"Maternity, Bridget. Isn't that why Mark is marrying you?"

Jellyfish alert at large! Felt as if ten stingers had zapped me from all sides, but managed to choke out, "Not…pregnant."

"Tut." She said before walking away.

Tut? What is that tut? Saw Margaret Grant eyeing me from office while I was in midst of showing off ring to Terry Wade. I ducked into my papers and pretended to be very busy, but actually kept glancing at clock. Then ducked into bathrooms one last time to do some fast running in place. Had to stop though because heard a covered shriek and turned to face Catherine Marshall who had come in noiselessly to the bathrooms. I recovered rather quickly and told her I was just training for the next marathon and had to keep my blood flowing nicely. Then I left the bathrooms, saw that it as five, and clocked out.

**5:30 p.m.** Mark will be picking me up in an hour to go to Natasha's engagement party. Put on dress. Had to call Shazzer to help me put it on property. She did the corset quite tight and I could hardly breathe. I resorted to take short quick breaths from my mouth.

"Bridget, will you stop panting like a dog?" Shazzer remarked.

Right. So resorted to quietly breathe short breaths through nose. Very stiff to walk.

**6:30 p.m.** Hair is still a mess.

**6:35 p.m**. Doorbell. Oh no, it's Mark!

"Who is it?" I asked innocently.

"Mark." came the response in an amused voice.

"Um…hold on." I said as Shazzer frantically tried to finish my hair. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, Bridget!" Shazzer apologized as I massaged my scalp.

"Bridget?" Mark called from outside. "Everything alright?"

"Fine….I'm just…er…looking for some mints!"

Started randomly shuffling things on my dresser to make it sound like I was looking for mints.

"Bridget, stay still!" Shazzer hissed.

"Anyone in there with you?" Mark called.

"Just Shazzer!" I answered. "Be right out! Why don't you have a cup of coffee down the street?"

"Right." Mark answered.

Not sure if he had gone downstairs, but Shazzer finally finished my hair fifteen minutes later. Quickly put on shoes and scrambled out the door and ran downstairs. Mark was nowhere in sight. Oh no. He couldn't have left already…could he?

Bugger, it was cold.

**7:30 p.m.** Mark and I arrived to Natasha's engagement party half an hour late and found everyone already seated and having appetizers.

"I thought you two weren't going to show." Natasha remarked with one eyebrow raised. She cheerfully gestured to a waiter to bring two more seats.

"Congratulations." Mark said formally.

"Thanks Mark, you are sweet." She put a hand on the shoulder of the man next to her. "This is Charlie."

Mark and Charlie shook hands and then Mark introduced me.

"So Bridget, you and Mark have been dating for quite awhile?" Meg remarked with just the teeniest hint of smugness in her voice as she and William got married over winter.

I simply nodded and sipped my wine in what I thought to be in a rather dignified manner. I stole a look at Mark to see if he was going to say anything, but he seemed to be absorbed in conversation with Charlie.

"Still not married, Bridget? How old are you now...thirty-four?" Natasha asked in a casual voice.

At this point, Mark looked up and said, "Bridget and I are engaged." Then he continued his conversation with Charlie as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Everyone turned to look at me, some mouths slightly open. I stole another quick glance at Mark, but he was still conversing, although there was a slight grin on his face.

"When?" Natasha stuttered out, losing her poise for the moment.

"Valentine's Day." I answered happily. "Is there more wine?"

"Bridget Jones!" Meg exclaimed. "I'm so…surprised!"

I coolly sipped my second glass of wine and tried not to look too excited. Instead, I remained as composed as I could and casually held out my hand to show my ring.

**9 p.m.** It was great. Everyone oohed and ahhed over my ring. Natasha looked dumbfounded. The one thing she always used to make me feel uncomfortable was now gone. Bridget Jones single no more! Bridget Jones to be married! Instead, Natasha suddenly became keen on having a double wedding.

"It'll be fun, don't you think?" she asked, as the waiter brought around crème brulees for dessert.

"Er…" said Mark.

"Oh come on, don't be such a spoilsport. Double wedding…double the fun!" Natasha sounded like she was promoting an advertisement .

"Well…" I began, looking at Mark. "Mark and I aren't going to be married until summer."

"You mean you're going to wait that long?"

"Haven't worked out all the details." I said meekly, wishing I could drown in my wine. Every question she asked struck a dagger.

"Hmm…" Natasha pursed her lips. "Well, Charlie and I are going to be married the last day of March. It'll be the beginning of spring. Afterwards, we're going to Romania."

"For your honeymoon?" I asked.

"Yes. We'll be staying at a lovely grand hotel. Where are you going, Bridget?"

"Um." I coughed.

"Paris? Cancun? It's up to you, Bridget. That is, no skiing of course." Mark gave me a wink.

Paris! Cancun! I've never been to those places. Just hearing them made me flush with excitement.

"And children?" Cosmo spoke up. "Time is running out."

"I haven't even thought of that." I answered, desperately wishing to return to my flat so I may breathe properly and not be grilled for questioning like a salmon filet. Actually, I've thought of it quite a lot. I imagined Mark and I happily married with two adorable little girls in which every morning after a lovely family breakfast, we would go off to work, drop the girls off in daycare and then both return home, cook dinner together and do all sorts of family things. Mark and I at PTA…Mark and I going to a school play…dressing our children up for Halloween…

"Earth to Bridget Jones." Cosmo waved his hand in front of my face.

"Oh hello." I snapped out of my reverie.

**11 p.m.** When Mark and I returned home, I tentatively asked him the subject of children. After all, if I was getting into this marriage, we would need to discuss the important factors beyond who choose what movies to rent.

"So…um…about the topic…" I began.

"Hmm…the topic…" Mark mused.

"What do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

"What Cosmo said."

"I don't know, that would depend on what he said." Mark took off his tie and proceeded to help himself to a glass of water in the kitchen.

"You know," I pressed on. "About what comes after…our marriage."

"The sex?" Mark grinned.

Honestly. That's all what men think about. Neverless, before I could say anymore, Mark proceeded to carry me into the bedroom and there we lost all the dignity and composure we held through the evening.


	8. Friday 26th, February

**Friday 26th, February**

Cigarettes: 5 Alcohol units: 7 Success at finding perfect wedding dress: 0

**3 p.m.** I really don't know a time when I felt happier than this. Here I am, looking at a dozen wedding gowns in _Beverly's Bridal_ with Mum looking more excited than the time she went to Africa.

"Tra-la!" Mum said triumphantly. "I think I've found the dress, Bridget!"

She held up the poofiest dress I have ever seen. It had ruffles cascading down in all directions and two big puffed sleeves. If that didn't make it horrible enough already, it also had a fat bow on the back. Presumably to shield my bottom.

"Mother, that dress is horrible." I stated in a nicest voice I could manage.

"Don't be silly, Bridget. Here, try it on." She shoved the dress in my direction.

"But---I don't want---" I sputtered as Mum pushed me into a dressing room with the dress in my arms.

Ten minutes later, I emerged from the dressing room looking more or less like a marshmallow.

"Oh, Bridget!" Mom gushed, putting a hand over her heart. "You look magnificent!"

That's Mum for you. Always expressing dramatic thoughts and feelings so that if I were to disagree it would make me incredibly guilty. Ended up persuading her to let me think about my wedding dress and mumbled something about being late for meeting Mark. Then rushed off to nearest store and bought packet of Silk Cuts. Decided that my dire need for a fag warranted me smoking it right there so I sat on the edge of the sidewalk. I was taking out my first fag and about to enjoy the much needed pacifier when a voice spoke, "Bridget?"

It was Mark, looking down on me with a bemused expression on his face.

I tossed the unsmoked fag aside and decided to hide the Silk Cuts by sitting on them. He thinks I've given up and I wasn't going to meddle with his image of Bridget-soon-to-be-Darcy as a chain smoker, alcoholic and lunatic, completely unable to be a normal, loving wife let alone be a mother.

Oh no. Would definitely have to give up all alcoholic beverages and fags if Mark and I were to have children. Realize importance of a healthy start even if----

"Bridget? Are you listening?" Mark asked.

"Right." I responded and tried to pretend I had been paying Mark the utmost, rapid attention when I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

"I said I was looking for you. I tried ringing your mobile, but it was off. I have to go to New York next weekend."

My face fell.

"Do you want to come with me?" he asked, trying to help me up, but I determinately stayed on the ground to hide the Silk Cuts.

New York! The Big Apple! What a lovely mini-break for Mark and I. Really delightful surprise. First time traveling with boyfr---ahem, _fiancé._ Wonder why it's called the Big Apple. Perhaps they grow lots of apples there, or used to. Maybe they eat a lot of apples---

"Bridget?" Mark spoke again.

"Yes, that would be brilliant." I answered in my most wife-like voice of calmness and serenity. I am soon to be the wife of a top barrister and reminded myself that I had a reputation to uphold. Not that I haven't had one before as top journalist, but now the weight has doubled.

Hopefully only in the metaphorical terms.

Lalala.

**Friday 5th, March **

**6 a.m**. Gahh! Mark will be here any minute to pick me up for airport and have not packed a thing except six pairs tiny knickers, sunglasses and formal dress borrowed from Jude. Also have mad hair, no makeup and can't find eyelash curlers. Must find them as they are essential. Really should not have gone out with Shazzer last night, but she was having crisis involving a bad argument with Simon.

**6:05 a.m.** Serious dilemma. Realize have not packed shoes. No matter, Mark might be late.

**6:07 a.m.** GAHHHHH! GAHHHHHHHH! Mark is here!

Remember to be poised and calm as the future Mrs. Mark Darcy is always elegant, always refined, never panicked.

"Bridget? Are you rea---bloody, _what _has happened to your flat?" Mark came in looking dashing in top barrister suit whilst I had curlers, bra, knickers and holding a fag. He looked at me with an inexplicable expression, then say wryly, "Have you packed?"

I narrowed my eyebrows.

He laughed. "Come now, don't look at me like that, Bridget. Why don't you get dressed? Look, just take the essentials. If you're missing anything we can buy it in New York."

I opened my mouth to reply, but Mark went past me to my suitcase, tossed in some undergarments and my pajamas that were sitting on the floor and then headed for the door.

"I'll take this to the car, you get dressed fast as you can."

"What about my eyelash curler?" I blurted out. Honestly, he couldn't leave me without them!

"I'm sure New York will have eyelash curlers. Come now, Bridget." He shut the door behind him.

Humph.

Ended up hurriedly dressing and taking curlers out of unfinished hair. Sigh. If being the fiancée of a top barrister is this stressful, wonder what life as wife would be like?

**10 p.m.** Hurrah! Life is fantastic. Went to hotel spa and left feeling radiant and relaxed. Hotel really is very lovely. New York is lovely. Mark Darcy is absolute sex god.

**Saturday 6th, March**

**9 a.m.** Tonight is v. important dinner with lots of important people. Mark left for meeting this morning, but have lots of things to do for today. Ooh, phone! Wonder who would be ringing me?

"Mark? Mark Darcy?" A woman's voice spoke hesitantly into my earpiece.

Put phone down as if scalded by hot stove. Who was that? Mark's secret concubine perhaps? Hotel service mistress? Random salesperson wanting to sell apples?

Remembered inner poise and picked phone up again, speaking clearly and calmly, "He's not here at the moment. May I take a message for him?"

A pause. "Um…who are you?"

"Bridget. Bridget Jones."

Another pause. "Are you his…wife?"

"Er…sort…well….no, no. _Not yet_." I added impressively.

"Right." The voice sounded smaller. "Well, um, I suppose I'll try back later. Do you suppose you can tell him that Christine called?"

"Of course." I answered, clearing my throat. "Business, I presume?"

"You can put it that way, I suppose." She answered before hanging up.

Hmm. Feel slightly suspicious, but don't want to get carried away. Besides, have lots of shopping to do. Trust Mark with all my heart.

**4 p.m.** Got home to find Mark reviewing some papers on desk. He turned as I came in and gave me a worn smile. "I've missed you."

Hurrah! Feel very pleased to be love of someone's life.

We immediately kissed each other and began a promising shag when phone rang.

"Hello?" a familiar female voice spoke.

Oh. Same as this morning.

I gave the phone to Mark and pretended to be very interested in studying the pattern of the bedcovers when in reality I was drinking in every word of the conversation.

"Oh, God. Christine. How did you? How'd---?" Mark said, the color draining from his face.

Oh no, bad sign! He really does have a secret mistress!

"Well of course I haven't forgotten. I mean, how could I?" Mark said with a bit of anger in his voice. "How did you know I was here?"

Long pause.

"I see. That's…well frankly, I don't----why didn't you call me before?"

Gahhhhh! What is happening? I want to know!

"I see. I see."

Long pause.

"I see. Yeeessss. I see."

Wonder what exactly was Mark seeing as I certainly did not see anything. Except his genuinely gorgeous bottom. Mmm…

"Why did you not tell me until now?"

Really, really long pause.

"Alright then. I----" Mark ran his hands through his hair. "I-I suppose I'll see you then. Yes, good bye."

He hung up the phone looking very pale and strange.

"Mark?" I spoke softly. "Mark what---who was that?"

I gently touched his arm. He turned to me and took my hands in his. Then he spoke in a very apologetic voice, "God, Bridget. I'm so sorry."

"What? What is it?" I asked.

Mark held my hands tightly and stuttered out, "That-that was my er…my….ex-wife."

All the worst scenarios came through my head. He was still in love with her! She still loved him! They want to remarry each other! Where would I go? Perhaps I could be the sit in the back and watch the entire wedding while trying not to sob.

"Bridget?" Mark whispered, looking extremely tense. "Bridget…she says I have a daughter."


	9. Sunday 7th, March

**Sunday 7th, March**

**6 p.m.** oh god. Oh god. Oh goddddddddd. Cannot be happening. Why? WHY? Just when life has begun to totally turn around with wedding and possibly parenthood plans, Mark Darcy turns out to be a father!

Can imagine life now. Whole family will be Cinderella-like, with the first child being the most special and children of "other woman" being second rate. Oh god. Just had sudden thought. What if Mark and I are unable to have children? Have read lots of articles about feud between children and stepmothers. Fuck, I'm a stepmother!

Must have a few fags to calm self.

**6:30 p.m.** Rest of that night was a blur. Went to important dinner and found self unable to pay attention to what was going on. Strangely enough, Mark was the same way. He kept running his hands through his hair as he does when he is nervous. We left the dinner as fast as possible and Mark spent about two hours on the phone with ex-wife. The tension was terrible. He kept on apologizing to me afterwards, but I couldn't think of what to say, so just went to bed.

Ooh, phone!

"Bridget Jones, this is Michael from _Independent_. We have an interview set up with Colin Firth on his new film, _Nanny Mcphee_. People at the office have unanimously voted for you to go interview him. Would you like to accept?"

Sat up straight with eyes wide.

"Yes! Yes!" I practically shouted. Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!

"Good, now listen," his tone suddenly changed to very business-like. "He is not Mr. Darcy in the new film, so stop pestering him about wet shirts and side burns like you did last time. You will fly out Friday morning, fly back by Friday night. I'm giving you the entire weekend to write it this time, so don't fuck it up. You turn the article to me at 5 p.m. Sunday. _Article_, Ms. Jones not a fucking transcript. It'll be in the paper Monday morning. Did you get that?"

I nodded.

"Bridget Jones?" he barked.

"Oh yes, yes. I got it. No problem."

"No wet shirt questioning and don't ask him what his favorite color is, Jones!" He hung up.

Honestly. You make one tiny reference to a previous film to actor in interview and all the sudden it's like you're obsessed.

Anyway, I've matured a lot these past months. Mr. Darcy---I mean, Colin Firth will be v. impressed with the new….gahhh! Have just realized. I am the soon to be Mrs. Darcy! Gahhhh! What if Mark and I elope before Friday so when I interview Colin Firth, I could introduce myself as Mrs. Darcy? Slightly hysterical, but am sure he will find it v. amusing.

**Monday 8th, March**

_128 lbs., cigarettes: 3, alcoholic units: 3, phone calls from Mark: 0 (odd), calories: 5400 (solely from cheese and chocolate)_

**10 a.m.** Right, will begin exclusive research on Colin Firth

**10:30 a.m.** Margaret Grant marched into the room, eyes darting around and spotted me. "Jones!" she barked. "I want you to do preparations for a new dating spot."

"Dating spot?" I asked.

"Yes," she snapped in a bossy voice. "Apparently they want to have a ten minute spot at the end of our program dedicated to dating. Dating disasters, dating advice, dating success. I've spoken to management and they want you."

"Me?" I asked.

"Well yes, you see…you're the one with the most years of experience being single." She smirked and trotted away.

**10: 45 a.m**. Doing top research on dating.

**11 a.m.** Hmm. It says here in _Keeping the Romance Alive _that when you believe your relationship has fallen into a "great hole of dullness or conformity", you should spice it up by being more fierce and passionate at the most "spontaneous of times". Suggestions include going to your boyfriend's place wearing sexy lingerie when he thinks you two have planned to go to the movies.

Hmm. Might give it a try. Mark and I do need to keep things alive as his ex-wife have crept into the picture.

**12 p.m**. Called Mark at work and asked in the most innocent of tones. "Hello darrrrling!" I spoke in a cheery, seductive sort of voice.

"Bridget, are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, what's wrong?"

"You sound exactly like your mother."

Decided to ignore Mark's total lack of romance and went on asking in a lusty whisper, "What are you doing tonight?"

"I thought I'll come round your place after work. Or would you prefer to come to mine?"

"Why don't I come to your place? What time do you get off work?"

"Er…around seven today."

"Right, I'll be there at seven-thirty."

Hurrah! Am making great progress in keeping the romance alive.

**7 p.m.** Gahh! Have suddenly realized that it is too cold to wear a sexy cut dress over tiny knickers and bra as book suggested so decided to put long coat over knickers and bra instead. Triumphantly carried a bottle of Chardonnay and put on two inch heels. Feel slightly like a call-girl, but reminded self that I was going over to see my fiancé. At last minute decided to put on bunny ears for full effect.

**7:30 p.m.** Humph. Have gotten rude whistles and remarks from at least ten pedestrians, including the cab driver, on the way. Walked up to Mark's house and rang doorbell, eager to surprise him.

Mark opened the door and smiled, his eyes darting to my bunny ears. "Bridget, come in. I was just in the middle of—"

Broke him off with a long, passionate kiss and threw off coat.

"Tra-la!" I said, presenting myself. "Just as you ordered, Mr. Darcy."

Heard cough behind me and turned around, mortified to see Nigel sitting on sofa.

"Gahh!" I screamed and scrambled around to put my coat on.

There was a horrible moment of awkward silence and then Nigel seemed to collect his thoughts.

"Er…I'll go back to my place now." He said, breaking the tension. "Margie and I have a PTA meeting tonight." Nigel picked up his briefcase, nodded to Mark and I, and left.

There was a brief silence as Mark and I looked at each other and then he burst out laughing. I was very cross.

"Oh come on now, Bridget." He said, taking me into his arms. "Don't look at me like that, Nigel will have forgotten all about it in a week."

"Mark?" I said, as he adjusted my bunny ears.

"Yes, darling?"

"I only did this to add romance in our life. I think we should make an effort to make it as unpredictable and romantic as possible." I said thoughtfully.

He was already kissing me and I wasn't sure if he heard me.

"Mark?" I spoke again.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think we have a romantic relationship?"

"I would say so."

"Really?"

"We shag practically every day." He said hornily.

I stiffened. "Mark! That is not romantic."

"It isn't?" He asked, breaking away and looking at me questioningly.

"No! Sex and romance are separate. For example, you can have sex without romance at all."

"Where did you get this?"

"A…source." I answered.

"A self-help book?"

"What's wrong with those?"

"Bridget, if you're saying that the times we've had sex had no romance at all then I do not know what is romantic to you." Mark looked bemused.

I gasped. "But…but what about roses! And fireworks? Candlelight!"

"You want candlelight?" Mark asked, crossing his arms, but he looked very interested.

"Well, not those specifics, but I mean…our relationship is…unromantic. You, Mark Darcy, are a very unromantic man." I huffed.

Mark stared. "Well, I see." He said very briskly and then walked into his kitchen.

I felt horrible. "I mean…I mean, not that you're entirely not! I understand you are tied up with your job and all…"

He said nothing, but proceeded to pour us both a glass of wine.

I felt very embarrassed. Both verbally and physically.

The rest of the night was spent eating a thai takeaway and then watching a rerun of _Friends_. When we went to bed, he turned the lights off and lit a single candle. I watched it as it feebly tried to light the room. Was that his idea of romance?

"Good night, Bridget." He muttered before pulling the covers over himself.


	10. Friday 12th, March

**Friday 12th, March **

_Cigarettes: 0 (non-smoking on plane) Calories: 1080 Alcohol units: 3 Number of times Colin Firth has said my name: 1 (v. v. good)_

**1 p.m.** On plane. Goody. Will be reunited with Colin Firth in about two hours. Ooh, that sounds romantic. Reunited! Ooh, has just looked at little napkin with plane's name on it. United Airlines! Surely this is too much of a coincidence?

**1:02 p.m.** He may not remember me. Will just have to accept that fact.

**1:05 p.m.** Will not be all bad. Good time to make fresh start.

Perhaps he will fall in love with me!

**1:06 p.m.** Am engaged to Mark Darcy. Cannot distract self with other men. Grr. When suddenly cannot date anyone else as self is taken, all sorts of opportunities pop up. Wonder if had choice, who would be more ideal? Mr. and Mark Darcy?

Silly Bridget. Of course Mark Darcy! Much more polite and absolute sex god in bed. Also am engaged to him. V. bad fiancée of self. V. disloyal. Ooh, steward has come with little drink menu. Think will have a little champagne to relax. Entire trip is paid by _Independent _anyway.

**2:20 p.m**. Have gotten off plane and is picked up by car to be taken to Colin Firth! Can hardly contain myself. Champagne was v. good.

**3 p.m.** Waiting for Colin Firth in little coffee shop. Teehee. Is v. funny to think of Colin Firth drinking coffee for some reason. Seems weird for him to do something so normal. Teehee.

**3:05 p.m**. Colin Firth arrived! Before could say anything, he put out his hand and said, "Bridget Jones, it's a pleasure to meet you again."

**7 p.m.** Back in flat. Lost in daydream. Ooh, phone!

"It's Michael from _Independent_. You have the tape recording?"

"Yes."

"Good, drop it off tomorrow."

"But what about the article?" I said, confused.

"We don't want the article anymore, just the tape." Michael said bossily.

"But---"

"We want whatever sells more. They want the transcript upstairs, so we're printing it."

"But---"

"And if the transcript isn't good, we'll have someone write the article using the tape. Your work is done." He hung up.

Huh. At least I am now free to listen to interview as many times as I want!

**8 p.m.** Shazzer and Jude both came over to listen to tape with me.

After the first run, I beamed to look up at them. Jude gave me an encouraging smile. "It was a very…interesting interview!"

Shazzer, however, said, "Bridget, you sounded drunk."

"I was not!" I said, horrified.

"You were too, you kept giggling and asking all sorts of…" Shazzer broke off. "Well, they loved your last transcript at _Independent,_ they'll love this one too."

Jude gave Shazzer and kick to shut her up. Shazzer tried to retaliate, but Jude said, "Pregnant! Pregnant!"

We spent the rest of the night watching _Thelma and Louise_, eating milk-tray and pausing movie to listen to interview, breaking into giggles every time we got back to the part where he said, "have fondness for women".

**Monday 15th, March**

_Cigarettes: 5 Alcohol Units: 4 Sudden meetings with future step-daughter: 1 _

Mark came over with a copy of _Independent_ in his hand.

"I enjoyed this very much." He said and then presented me with a dozen long stemmed roses!

I gasped.

"However, next time perhaps you should drink afterwards." He grinned.

Narrowing my eyebrows slightly, I took the paper from him. The title read, _Beneath the Wet Shirt: Exclusive Bridget Jones's Interview with Colin Firth_

_CF: Bridget Jones, it's a pleasure to meet you again_

_(pause)_

_CF: Are you alright?_

_BJ: Oh…oh yes. I…I was just thinking…__(lowers to hushed, stunned voice) you grew a beard._

_CF: Yes, I suppose I did._

_(pause)_

_CF: Shall we get on with the interview?_

_BJ: Right._

_(shuffles papers)_

_BJ: So…in your new film, um…(__shuffles papers)...Nanny McPhee. How do you feel about being with children?_

_CF: Well, I thought it was a very enjoyable experience, one of the most enjoyable in my filming career. Of course, there were moments of confusion and chaos with the donkey involved and all, but over all it went quite well._

_BJ: I see. So you like your own children then?  
CF: Yes, I like my own children very much._

_BJ: And I suppose you are still married then?_

_CF: Yes, I am._

_BJ: Oh._

_(slight pause)_

_BJ: Ahem, so do you have any advice to give to any aspiring actors about...acting?_

_CF: Advice?_

_BJ: Yes._

_CF: Well I was lucky to get my big break in Pride and Prejudice----_

_BJ: __(gasps, breaking off to giggles)_

_CF: ---and I suppose to keep on working and trying your best. I believe a lot of actors' careers pick up tremendously after an enormously successful film---_

_BJ: Excuse me. __(stifles giggle)_

_CF: Yes?  
BJ: It just occurred to me that you said your big break came in Pride and Prejudice. So is there a possibility__…(giggles again) of a sequel?  
CF: Er…I don't believe Jane Austen wrote a sequel._

_BJ: __(brightly) No, but there are many sequels written by others. __(hiccups) Such as, __Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife. _

_CF: Yes, I suppose there are, but I don't believe there is a possibility of me being in a Pride and Prejudice sequel. The chances of that happening are probably one in a million._

_BJ: So there is a very small chance then?  
CF: Yes. __(pause) I suppose there may be a time where a sequel movie may come out with other actors._

_BJ: Ooh, Goody. Ahem. __(shuffles papers) So back to your film, er…_

_CF: Nanny McPhee._

_BJ: Yes, in your film. Do you find that…that, wearing…a…a….white shirt…sort of…__ahem relive a déjà vu?_

_CF: A déjà vu?_

_BJ: Like you've seen it before?  
CF: The white shirt?_

_BJ: Yes._

_CF: Yes, I suppose._

_BJ: Suppose what?  
CF: The white shirt, I've seen it before yes, listen are you alright?_

_BJ: I'm fine, why?_

_CF: Nothing, I…er…never mind._

_BJ: You're very attractive __(giggles) even though you're wearing a beard._

_CF: Um, thank you. And you are as well._

_BJ: __(gasps, crash follows) Really?_

_CF: Yes. So back to my film, in Nanny Mcphee---_

_BJ: I'm sorry, but I just have to get this teeny, tiny thing cleared up._

_CF: __(clears throat) yes?_

_BJ: Is it true that you recently jammed your fingers in a window while wearing nothing but underpants and honeybear slippers?_

_(pause)_

_CF: __(slight groan) yes, that happened. My neighbors all came to my house and it was a pretty uncomfortable moment with the slippers and all__. (laughs)_

_BJ: So you were wearing your honeybear slippers and underpants?_

_CF: I'm not entirely sure if they were honeybear exactly, but they were of the sort, yes._

_(pause)_

_BJ:__ (in hushed tones) Is it true that…well, I saw a clip on the internet that…you dressed up as Nanny Mcphee for fun after filming?_

_CF: (__laughs) Yes, I did. It was a bit of fun for laughs. __(chuckles)_

_BJ: Is that something…you do often?_

_CF: No, I assure you I don't, ahem. I'm completely straight and have fondness for women. My wife in particular._

_BJ: That is so devoting of you. I have a fiancé too, he's very devoted to me._

_CF: Congratulations on your engagement._

_(Sudden static followed by unclear winding of tape)_

_BJ: Well, this is Bridget Jones reporting for the Independent News with Mr.---Mr.----Firth. Colin. __(laughs) Colin. Firth._

"Oh no," I groaned. Putting down the paper and reaching for the Chardonnay (conveniently on coffee table as if knew was going to need it).

"What's wrong?" Mark asked.

"I sounded as if I didn't like him! But I do, oh…oh I do…not as much as you." I added seeing Mark's face of amusement and jealousy.

Mark took me in his arms and in an instant, I knew he had bad news.

"Bridget," he whispered softly. "I met my daughter this weekend. And…I told both her and my ex-wife about you. I want you to meet her. Her name is Olivia."

_Crash._

We both looked down and saw the shattered bottle I dropped while having a miniature stroke.

"Don't move, I'll clean it up." Mark said immediately, going to the kitchen. I couldn't move. How could I? Bridget Jones-soon-to-be-wife-of-top-barrister is now Bridget-Jones-soon-to-be-stepmother-to-daughter-of-top-barrister's-cruel-race-ex-wife! God. What if Olivia thinks I'm too ridiculous to be married to Mark? Have read heartbreaking stories in which father is torn between new wife and daughter from first marriage.

What if Olivia is going to steal Mark's heart and give it back to her mother?

Mark came back from kitchen and cleaned up the shattered glass. He then immediately poured me a glass of wine and led me to the sofa.

"Bridget," he took my hands into his own, his voice urgent. "I need you."

I gave him a brave, encouraging smile and nodded, "Let's go meet her."


	11. Part 3: Mark's a Father

**Monday 15th March (part 2)  
**

**5 p.m.** Mark and I drove to his home not long after and felt a sense of foreboding as if all the sudden was going to fall out of car or driver swerving off to a ditch or find self cornered with Olivia pouncing on me for being in Mark's life.

**5: 30 p.m. Mark's home. **

"Olivia and her mother should be here soon," Mark said anxiously, taking off his coat. He stood back and looked at his massive home appraisingly, "Do you think I ought to get something for Olivia? What do young girls like these days?"

"Um…" I began.

"What's a popular band? Perhaps I could get her one of those iPods. I can't say I know much about them." Mark looked at me, hoping for encouragement.

"You could ask her what she would like." I said in a soft voice. Already, I was practically whimpering at Mark's devotion. It was quite endearing yet also made me paranoid as images of Mark snogging his ex-wife kept popping into mind.

We heard a knock on the door and both of us jumped. Mark dashed to open it. I slinked back in the shadows, hoping I could camouflage myself. Perhaps I could press myself against the wall and be a three dimensional painting.

"Mark!" I heard a woman's voice exclaim.

"Hello, nice to see you both again. Come in, please! Bridget?" Mark called, looking around and spotting me half concealed behind the sofa. "Bridget, come meet Christine and Olivia."

Christine---slim figured and wearing Armani-----stepped into the room holding the hand of a little girl.

"Hello," she greeted, her hand outstretched. "You must be Bridget Jones." I caught a waft of Vera Wang perfume.

The little girl proceeded forward and placed her hands on her hips. "I'm Olivia."

"Yes, I know." I said, shaking her hand. "It's very nice to meet you." I turned to her mother to shake her hand in turn. "And it's very nice meeting you too."

"Well!" Mark stepped forward, obviously very pleased. "Well, let's have dinner shall we? We can all get acquainted."

I followed them to the dining room, meek and uncomfortable. Aside to Christine, I felt like a pink elephant. As we seated around the table, I stole a glance at Mark looking at Olivia affectionately. She seemed oblivious to this and was tugging at her mother's sleeve to whisper something in her mother's ear.

Christine leaned over and then said very quietly, "We'll talk about that later."

"What is it?" Mark asked, puzzled at Olivia's now upset expression.

"She wants to stop by_ Priscilla _on the way home to buy a new doll," Christine replied with a slightly stern look over at Olivia. "I dare say she has far too many."

"Not at all!" Mark said immediately. "In fact, I was just wondering what sort of present I should give to you, Olivia. Why do you say we go and buy that doll after dinner?"

Olivia immediately brightened up. "Yes, yes!"

"Oh no Mark, you shouldn't---" Christine began.

"Please, let me do this." Mark said eagerly as if he very much wanted the doll himself.

The chef then brought out a platter of grilled lamb on a bed of spinach and goats cheese. As he proceeded to serve us the dish, I caught the smell of it and immediately wanted to vomit. I managed not to, but lost my appetite. Instead, I directed my attention to Christine.

"How long are you in England for?" I asked whist trying not to inhale thus giving my speech a restrained, nasal sound.

"I'm here for my job, for about a year. I work at _Priente_ and we are recently marketing our new line of products in England." She said coolly with no hint of holding her breath.

"Are you going to be my stepmother?" Olivia asked, looking me in the eye while poking at her lamb with no apparent desire to eat it.

"Um…yes." I looked at Mark.

"Bridget is great with children." Mark said happily, tucking into his lamb.

"Are you two thinking of having children?" Christine asked, taking a sip of her wine.

"Um…" I trailed off, hoping Mark would answer.

"We're not thinking of that yet," Mark replied, looking at me. "Too soon, right, Bridget?"

"Of course," I nodded, disagreeing whole heartedly. I turned to down my glass of wine.

"Bridget...Jones…" Olivia called to me in a sing-song voice. "Bridget Jones…you have something stuck on your bottom…"

Horrorstruck, I looked on my bottom and found that I had tiny knickers stuck to my jeans, obviously product of shagathon.

"Olivia!" Christine chided sternly.

Olivia slinked down and mouthed, "Sorry."

Mark covered his face with his hands for a moment and then looked up very serious, "Well! How's the lamb Bridget?"

"Um…I'm allergic." I said in a feeble voice, not sure why I am lying. Of course I couldn't just say, 'It makes me want to vomit all over this table', could I?

"Oh…oh!" Mark said. "I didn't know, I'll have Rodrigue bring out something else, darling."

"Darling," Olivia echoed. "That's what my mummy calls me."

"You are quite a darling," Mark said affectionately. "Your mother is right."

There was a sudden buzz and I jumped, then remembering that my celly was on silent.

All three of them looked at me.

"Hello?" I hissed, whist trying to look apologetic.

"How's the family reunion going?" Tom asked eagerly.

"Now is not a good time." I whispered.

"That bad, eh?"

"Well no…not exactly. Just..."

"Awkward?"

"Yes!" I said.

"You're feeling nervous? They seem well acquainted?"

"Yes." I answered lamely.

"They have history, you feel like an outsider…"

"Tom you are not helping."

"Sorry love, word of advice. Be cool."

"It's rather hot in here…"

"No Bridge. Be an icebox. Do not let them see you sweat. You are ice-queen, top of the line, trophy in Mark's arms."

"Thanks." I replied, "Okay goodbye, Ms. Grant!"

I turned to face Mark, Christine and Olivia.

"That was my boss." I announced. "She has me working a very important deadline."

"Mark was just telling me about your job," Christine said smoothly. "I have seen you on television."

"Oh…goody." I answered flatly. Great.

The next twenty minutes passed like the clock does when you're eagerly awaiting the examination results of your finals: too slow, too nerve-wrecking.

"Dessert is served," Rodrigue announced, carrying platters of pear soufflé topped with mass amounts of cream. That's when I couldn't stand it, the blot of excess cream mingled with the lingering smell of grilled lamb….

I pushed my chair out and ran towards the bathroom and reached it just in time, vomiting into the toilet.

**Wednesday 17th March**

_129 pounds, alcohol units 4, cigarettes 2 (v.g.), calories: 2100 (v. v. bad)_

**8 p.m. Boots Pub.**

"Fuck them," Shazzer said immediately. "They are nothing, but snottish poker up arse cold…fish."

"She can't 'fuck them', Shaz. She and Mark are getting married!" Jude responded. She was the only one not gorging down Chardonnay or holding a fag in hand. Could already see tiny bump and felt jealous at thought of her and Richard starting a family with no cruel race ex-wife to worry about.

"He could have been more supportive. All he did was talk about Olivia, didn't he?" Shazzer pointed out.

"And he keeps buying her things…" I moaned. "He wants me to adopt her and I'll just be a really crap step-mother."

"No you won't Bridget. You're terrific with children," Jude said brightly. "Remember Magda's christening?"

"The one where the boys kept smacking my bottom?"

"No…where you and Constantine got along so well!"

"I'm going to use the loo." I said, hoping to clear my head of the noise and confusion.

"Uh…no! Why don't you sit down and…think about the situation some more?" Shazzer suggested, pulling me back into my seat.

"Why?" I asked suspicious.

"Don't look!" Tom and Jude both said while their eyes scanned the entrance.

I looked over to the entrance.

Daniel Cleaver (with insect blonde vixen) caught my eye, whispered something to the insect and headed over.

"Jones," he growled. "How are you? Still with arsey Darcy?"

"Hi, I'm Tom and it's very nice to meet you." Tom greeted enthusiastically.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Daniel replied and then turned to me, completely oblivious of Jude and Shazzer throwing daggers at him. "Listen Jones, why don't you and your mummy-pants pay me a visit sometime? We can go on holiday to Rome. Think about it."

He turned back to his vixen and strode off.

"Bridget!" Jude hissed. "Tell me you are_ not _thinking about his offer!"

"He wasn't serious, you know." Shazzer prompted, lighting up another fag.

"Of course I'm not going back to Daniel, I'm engaged! Honestly, who do you think I am?" I said with a huff. I checked my celly and was disappointed that there were no calls from Mark.

"But he's really rather dishy, don't you think?" Tom prompted, pouring some more Chardonnay into his glass.

"He's nothing but a horny shag machine." I said, not realizing that it would just turn Tom on even more.

"Forget about him, Bridge. Think of yourself. Now…what is your wedding dress going to look like?" Jude asked, picking up her sparkling water.

"White...and...oh...I don't know if I should wear white..." I said tentatively. "I'm not exactly the most..." I trailed off and sulked, looking at my empty Chardonnay glass.

Tom immediately refilled my glass and said encouragingly, "And you and Mark will move in together so you don't have to worry about being a single, barren spinster who will die---"

"Alone and found three weeks later half eaten by wolves." I finished for him, trying to brighten up. The idea that Daniel Cleaver had playfully suggested a mini-break and Mark was off buying Olivia tons and tons of presents while ignoring me was too hard to bear. What if this was life from now on? What if Mark and I drift further apart after we tie the knot instead of being closer together? Perhaps he only wanted to marry me because I am ridiculously laughable?


	12. Tuesday 23rd, March

**Tuesday 23rd, March**

_130 pounds (have literally given up on dieting due to suicidal thoughts) calories: infinite (entirely new potatoes, cheese, takeaway and milk tray)_

**7 p.m.** Feeling pretty low. Mark has only been to see me once the past weekend and it was spent in company of Olivia at the local zoo. Really, really exhausting having to run after her while stench of animals wafted in the air and huge giraffes looked as if wanted to eat self. Every sentence Mark said related to something like, "Isn't she bright? Look at how she identifies the different animals", and "I can't believe I have missed half of her childhood already."

After trip ended, Olivia's arms were filled with stuff animals, toy snow globes and similar from zoo gift shop. Realize is selfish and wrong to feel jealous of eight year old girl, but that girl is inconveniently Mark Darcy's daughter who seems to have stolen all of Mark's attention.

Also, since Olivia's presence, Mark has not stayed overnight at flat. At all. Not once.

Very tired lately. Probably due to feeling like the crap, rotten evil stepmother-to-be that am behaving like. Wish Mark would drop by without Olivia and ravish me like he used to. Wonder if should ring him. Perhaps should, but then what if he does not pick up? What if I ring him and leave a ridiculously long and pointless message and wait for him to ring me except he doesn't?

Miss him. A lot.

**8 p.m.** Maybe am very tired because Aunt Flo is due for a visit soon. Probably why I am having such horrible images of Mark telling me, "Bridget, Olivia needs a proper mother so I have decided to marry Christine and give her the family she needs."

Suddenly sat up straight.

Oh Holy Jesus! Aunt Flo hasn't paid visit since….oh god. Quickly rummaged through drawers looking for miniature calendar sent free from bank.

Flipping through the months, realized that last time gotten period was a week before Valentine's Day. Bugger!

Bugger, bugger----! No, this cannot be, this _can't _be possible, yet realize that the unrepressed shagathons must have had consequences self did not think about.

Not only am not longer spinster, but no longer barren! Is it possible?

Only one way to confirm suspicions. Trip to store necessary. Realize must not get hopes up too soon.

**8:30 p.m.** Diane Darcy. Diana Jones Darcy. Rupert Jones Darcy. Mark Darcy, Jr.?

Walked along aisles in furtive manner (do not know why) and looked around suspiciously in case anyone knew why I was here. Then quickly dashed in proper aisle to grab pregnancy test. Young whippersnapper at counter grinned broadly as I paid for purchase.

Once had test safely in bag, walked back to flat with trembling anticipation.

"Bridget?" a confident, familiar voice called.

Froze in midst of crossing street and then looked back to see Christine emerging from taxi dressed in long black gown with no sign of Olivia.

"Oh, hello!" I laughed, trying to hide bag behind me.

"Do you live here?" she asked, walking over.

"Why yes, and you?"

"My hotel is a few blocks away," she replied coolly. "I haven't seen you in so long. In fact, Mark and I were just talking about you."

Felt as if drenched in ice from head to toe. "Oh, really?" I croaked out, in what I hoped to be a casually curious tone. "Where were you?"

"We were having dinner at _La Rouge_."

La Rouge!

"He's so fond of Olivia," Christine continued. "I've forgotten how attractive he is. If only I had gone back to him when he begged me to…"

Felt as if throat had closed in on self.

Christine gave a small sigh. "I really do fancy him, but I'm sure he has long pushed aside

our old romance. Well, nice talking to you!" She went off leaving me standing on the sidewalk looking after her while eyes became very wet.

Why was Mark taking Christine to _La Rouge_, the very restaurant where he proposed marriage to me? Why were they alone?

Went back to flat and instead of taking test, headed straight for milk-trays and called Shazzer and Jude.

**10 p.m.** Despite the lateness of being a weeknight, Shaz and Jude came over immediately bearing thai takeaway and champagne.

"Really, Bridge. You must do something about this. You cannot let him treat you like rubbish!" Shazzer instructed before popping the cork off the champagne.

"He probably went to talk to her about custody issues, parental rights, just legal business." Jude suggested hopefully.

"At _La Rouge_?" I cried.

Shaz and Jude looked at each other and then Shaz pushed glass of champagne to me while deciding what to say.

"I can't," I responded with an even more sorrowful tone. "I…I…I think I'm pregnant."

Jude and Shaz both let out a gasp and Shaz spilled champagne all over table, knocking over a box of takeaway in process.

"When did you---?" Jude began.

"Just now. I haven't taken the test yet." I admitted, taking another chocolate.

"Bridget!" Shazzer said, getting up all the sudden and looking very serious. "I demand you call him right now, tell him your situation and see what he makes of it!"

Jude pulled Shaz down. "She needs to take the test first!" Jude hissed.

"Right then," Shaz nodded. "Where is it?"

I pointed to the bag smushed behind the sofa. Jude launched at it and opened it enthusiastically.

"This is the one I bought for myself!" she said happily. "99 accurate!"

Shaz pressed it into my hand. "Go on, Bridge."

Mournfully, I made my way to the loo feeling as if were attending self's funeral.


	13. Tuesday 23rd March cont

**Tuesday 23rd March (cont.)**

_Feeling of doom: 1 hopeful happy endings: 1 _

**10:10 p.m.**

Ten minutes later, emerged from loo with only two words to announce to Jude and Shaz who were both staring at me as if were hawks.

"Well…?" Shazzer asked at last, after a full three minutes of silence.

"It's positive." I announced, and then burst into tears.

**10:30 p.m. Crisis Alert. **

Shazzer and Jude comforted me in best ways they could. Shaz kept demanding I let Mark Darcy know this instant that I was having his child and Jude was arguing that I should let Mark know in a very gentle, undramatic way, preferably when am not hysterical.

"Hysterical?" Shazzer said, looking at Jude. "Why should she be concerned about him taking the news when she is the one being ignored? He should know about it this very instant when Bridget needs him!"

"This isn't something to announce to Mark at the spur of the moment!" Jude retorted, while patting me on the back as I cried into her shoulder.

Shazzer grabbed mobile and handed it to me. "He's got to know, Bridge. It's better sooner than later."

Jude pressed her lips together and then said, "What if he…?" She gave Shaz a significant look.

"Well then better to know now then dwell on it!" Shazzer proclaimed while I found myself dialing Mark's number into the mobile.

Jude pressed her hand against Shazzer's mouth as I finished dialing.

"Mark Darcy speaking." Mark greeted.

"Hello…" I found myself whimpering for no apparent reason. Shazzer gave me a thumbs up and mouthed, 'Yes!'

"Oh, hello Bridget. How are you?"

"Um…" I looked at Shazzer who was frantically mouthing something and tried to read her lips. "Um…I need to tell you….that…that…"

:"Yeees?" Mark said in a bemused voice.

"That…that…I am…p….p….prepared to be Olivia's stepmother!" I finished lamely.

Shazzer smacked her forehead and Jude's jaw dropped.

"That's fantastic, Bridget!" Mark replied. "I'm glad you told me. Christine and I just talked and she suggested that I accompany Olivia back to Wales and spend some time with her before Olivia starts school after her spring vacation."

"What?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"Olivia is going back to school next week. Originally Christine was going to accompany her back and see that Olivia gets to her grandparents' house. She's living with them for the year while Christine travels throughout England and I thought, 'Why not I take the opportunity to raise my daughter?'"

"How…lovely." I said miserably.

Jude and Shazzer both gave me questioning looks.

"Do you mind, Bridget? We can fly there maybe once a month and of course we'll be sending emails and calling on the telephone---"

"That's great!" I said, feeling as if I had been stabbed in the heart.

"Do you want to come with me to Wales next week?"

"I can't next week. It's…I have a deadline."

"Oh," Mark sounded disappointed. "Well, I'll be there for about a week and then I'll be back, but I really do miss you Bridget. We haven't properly spent time together with this and that popping up."

"Yes of course, but you take your time!" I said bracingly. "Don't worry about me, I have lots to do here. In fact, I have a very exciting Easter project to do involving bunnies and egg hunts!"

There was a slight pause.

"I miss you a lot, Bridget. Honestly. In fact, I'm going to come over right now and ravish you." Mark said hornily.

"Gah!" I screamed and then composed self. "See you in a bit then!"

As soon as hung up the phone, ushered Shaz and Jude to leave.

"He's coming!" I hissed, stumbling into the bathroom and gasping at my mad hair.

Jude became very teary. "This is beautiful! You'll tell him about your baby then?"

"Of course she is!" Shazzer proclaimed, picking up her coat and dashing out the door.

"Good luck!" they called in union as they parted.

I began hurriedly to clean up flat, hiding self-help books and then rushing to bathroom to do hair. Unfortunately, Mark usually takes about 15 minutes to come round to my flat and was in middle of picking out tiny knickers when doorbell rang.

"Coming!" I called, deciding on black lacy ones (only pair clean) and rushing to the door.

"Darling Bridget." Mark muttered before pressing me against wall into passionate snog.

Proceeded to bedroom while stumbling over clothes lying around floor and Mark furiously undoing his tie and taking off shirt.

Minutes later, was in shag heaven!

"Bridget." Mark said whilst giving me tiny kissing all over neck. Very ticklish.

"Yes?" I giggled.

"We should really get the plans underway for our wedding…Mrs. Darcy."

I gasped at hearing him pronounce this name while I have only dreamed of it in my head until now. This is perfect, opportune moment for me to announce to Mark that was having his child.

"I can't wait to be with you, Bridget. You, me, little Olivia…this seems like a dream doesn't it?"

Maybe not.

"I promise you won't get tired out by traveling. I am trying to convince Christine to allow Olivia to come here during the summers." Mark smiled at me while I remained speechless.

"I'm going to get some water," he announced. "Do you want any?"

I shook my head and buried my face into the pillows, trying to figure out how in the world was going to tell Mark Darcy he was going to be another father (not as in two separate fathers, but father to another child).

There was a sudden bang in the kitchen as if Mark had run into something or had fallen over.

"Mark?" I called out. "Are you alright?"

He didn't reply.

"Mark?" I called again, fearful that he might have injured himself.

He still did not answer.

I was about to get out of bed to check on him when he walked into the room, looked at me with the most poignant expression on his face and wordlessly held up the pregnancy test.


	14. Sunday 28th, March

**Sunday 28th, March**

_Cigarettes: 0 Alcohol Units: 0 Increasing Chaos: 1 million_

**3 p.m.** Oh bugger. Life was not all as I imagined it to be. I had imagined a blissful, quiet aftermath with Mark and I secretly flying to tiny chapel to elope and then calmly announcing our news to everyone and then proceeding to get on with our lives as parents-to-be.

Mark has spent the past few days rushing around calling contractors to remodel his house to install nursery wing and also ringing up chapels for earlier wedding whilst I vomited in toilet every now and then, feeling too nauseated to go to work and tried to handle excessive phone calls (from Mum, Una, and Elaine Darcy) and packing up boxes to move into Mark Darcy's home.

Elaine Darcy was absolutely thrilled at news, wanting to help decorate nursery right away and urging Mark to hurry up with the wedding. Mum and Una were both calling me up at least five times every minute giving advice on a successful pregnancy.

"Drink lots and lots of water!" Mum chirped up. "And don't forget about the folic acid!"

"Did you tell her about yoga, Pam?" Una said in the background.

"I'm about to, Una!" Mum said. "Do you need a nanny, Bridget? Una and I would be happy to take care of the little baby----"

"No!" I said quickly. "Um…no, Mum. That's fine, I'm great really."

"Are you getting enough iron?" Mum asked worriedly. "It's very important that you---"

"Mrs. Jones," Mark picked up the phone gently as I sank into sofa rubbing my temples. "Bridget and I are just about to head out for dinner. Could we ring you later? Of course. Bye."

"I am a horrible mother and I haven't even had the baby yet." I said sadly.

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked, placing a hand on my shoulder very carefully. He has been extremely cautious around me these days, thinking any sudden movements might cause me to break.

"Folic acid! Yoga! Parenting classes!" I said. "I don't even know how to change nappies, how am I going to get through this?"

Phone rang again and I picked it up, mimicking slicing my throat open to Mark who laughed and greeted, "Bridget Jones, secret stash of folic acid dealer."

"I do not know what you're raving in your ridiculousness, Bridget, but I'm calling to warn you that if you don't show up to work soon, you're in danger of being fired." Margaret Grant hissed into the earpiece.

"Gahhh!" I responded, then recomposed myself quickly.

She continued. "I know you're pregnant now, but that doesn't give you the excuse to linger around the house baking bread and stash folic acid or whatever nonsense you're always getting yourself into. Your maternity leave is not for another six months. Betsy Evans from Marketing didn't take off until two weeks before her due date."

"I'll be there bright and early tomorrow!" I chirped, trying to sound well and focused, but in reality needed to go to the loo.

"Good, you have a new project." She barked before slamming the door down.

Mark handed me a cup of tea and chocolate croissant bought fresh from Coins Café. He put an arm around my shoulder and leaned in for a kiss.

We shared a brief tender moment before being interrupted by the doorbell. Ugh, was Mum and Aunt Una coming over for another surprise visit, perhaps asking what I wanted for Christmas? Had sudden, horrifying vision of Mum and Aunt Una spoon-feeding mashed turkey curry to baby during New Years. Ugh.

Mark got up to answer the door. He had barely opened it when, to my surprise, Christine barged in bearing resemblance to an angry cheetah.

"Mark." She said coldly in a voice quite unlike her usual collected self.

"Christine." Mark responded, looking at her with a puzzled expression and for some reason, gripped my shoulder as if supporting himself.

Christine threw me a filthy look and then said as steadily as she could for her voice was wavering, "I see that you are going to…marry her…"

Mark's face discolored at the sight of Christine's wet eyes.

"You…you…left me and Olivia and now you've gone and done it again!" Christine accused.

"What?" Mark asked blankly. "I left you?"

"Yes!" Christine gulped and furiously wiped at her eyes, which had grown red and puffy.

"Christine, you and Daniel Cleaver----" Mark began.

"He came on to me! And if you had spent more time at home than at your office you would have realized that I needed you!"

"You cannot surely excuse your actions in that your affair lasted an entire month before I found out about it!" Mark said hotly, very agitated now. I looked from him to Christine as if were watching a tennis match.

"I…I am taking Olivia away from you and you won't dare see her again!" Christine threatened dramatically, staring down Mark.

Mark stopped, looked as if he was going to shout, but then said in a very quiet voice, "You wouldn't. She is my daughter."

"Not any longer! You are not going to take any part in her life…" Christine too, lowered her voice in a deadly whisper.

I felt as if I should jump up and get out of the scene, but obviously could not do that without anyone noticing. Suppose I could try to concentrate on something else and pretend I was not taking part in listening to any of the conversation, but Mark gripped my shoulder harder than ever and I felt his hands shake slightly.

Then in a very soft voice, Mark said, "Christine, please be reasonable."

Christine did not reply, but instead dramatically exited and slammed the door behind her.

There was an extremely tense silence following this which was not made easier by the fact that Mark was still gripping my shoulder and I needed to go to the loo.

"Well!" I said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm sure she was just over-reacting." Inwardly, I could see the headlines, _Bridget Jones: Home-wrecker to Brilliant Lawyer_.

"You think so, Bridget?" Mark asked worriedly.

"Of course! Haha…just trying to give you a fright! Haha…um…Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"I need to use the loo."

"Oh, oh yes. Sorry." He released his arm from my shoulder and I made a mad dash to the bathroom.

When I came back, I found Mark pulling on his jacket and scarf.

"You're leaving?" I asked, feeling disappointed.

"Er, yes. I have an um, important case on the Tash-Geraldo case I need to work on for tomorrow." he replied. He took my hands and smiled. "Get lots of rest. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

I nodded, feeling sad.

"Oh, and Bridget?"

"Yes?"

"You're packing, aren't you?" He reminded me.

"Oh, oh! Yes, lots and lots of excellent progress so far." I said brightly.

"If we're going to move you into my house next weekend, I want us to be ready." He gave me a kiss and then left.

**Monday 29th, March**

_Phones calls from Mum and Aunt Una: 4 thus far. Times thrown up in toilet: 2 Articles Packed: 0 _

**1 p.m.** Doooom! Look like crap and feeling like crap and treated like crap from Margaret Grant who assigned me new project all about women with children later in their life. Feeling slightly pissed hence the project is wide hint directed to self, but decided to be courageous like always.

**3 p.m.** Feeling even lower spirited if at all possible. Interview was horrible and now images of self inflating to fat whale-like creature floating in head.

When stumbled to interview 20 minutes late, found self faced with an impatient, heavily pregnant woman named Claire who took one look at me and said, "You look like a disaster."

Decided to ignore comment and proceeded to the interview, asking her how she felt having a baby while being slightly older than most first-time mothers. Inwardly, I thought she looked quite good. Very young actually. At this, she looked truly offended and that's when she dropped the bombshell. Apparently, _she_ thought the interview was on having older children still living at home and was prepared to rant on about her ungrateful twenty-two year old stepson. She said that she was only thirty-five.

Back in the studio, Margaret Grant was beside herself, proclaiming that I wasn't bothering to read the assignment correctly.

"Bridget, honestly! If you screw up one more project, I'm going to have to give you the ax!" Margaret roared, nostrils flaring.

Apologized again and left her office, but unfortunately passed by Eddie, the new intern eating a tunafish sandwich. The stench got to my nose and I spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the toilets. Again.


	15. Tuesday 5th, April

A/N:　Very sorry for the delay! I hope everybody had a wonderful holiday and New Years. Will promise to try to update more often.

**Tuesday 5th, April**

_Boxes unpacked: 2 Boxes still unopened: a million and one _

**7:00 p.m. Mark Darcy's Massive Mansion**

Have no idea how to sort stuff out. Opened one box and found various magazines, old self-help books and two old diaries. Opened another and found unused slow-cooker from Mum, certainly a present from several Christmases past. Really should have marked contents of box on the outside with Sharpie but did not think was necessary and also packing was disorganized in general as had to keep running to loo and rummaging through drawers while trying to complete deadline for Margaret Grant.

Mark's house is huge. He showed me around before, but I'd never seen it properly. He has exactly twelve rooms upstairs. Twelve! I had managed to remember our bedroom (ours! Not his! Hurrah!) because it's the last one to the right, but I keep forgetting everything else.

Mark's still at work. Oooh…doorbell, wonder that must be?

**8:00 p.m.** Ughhh...worst nightmare ever. Opened door to find two of the pompy-est of pompy women wearing matching frilly suits (one pink and one green) topped with small round hats with a long feather sticking out of it.

"Helllooo!" the pink one trilled and held out a hand decorated with several large jeweled rings and a sparkling bracelet. "I'm Tibby Washington and this is Laura McHenry."

"You can call me Lala!" the green one interjected, holding out a covered dish.

"We're your next door neighbors and we're baked some special homemade macaroons for you!"

"We _heard _that Mark's fiancée was moving in and we _had_ to come over to inspe----er….welcome you." Lala fluttered her eyelashes disturbingly.

Felt self bemused and wondered if I should invite them in.

I opened the door a bit wider. "Would you like to come in?"

"Oh thank you, darling!" They chimed.

I took the macaroons and put them on an empty table. Didn't feel like eating any for now, but there were boxes everywhere and didn't know what to do with them.

The two ladies inspected the place quite ostentatiously.

"Our daughters have married, we're sisters you know," Tibby informed me. "Lala here moved in with me when Stephen died."

Stephen?

"We are so fond of Mark. Always so polite! We wondered _when _he was going to get married again. His last wife was a very respectable woman, but I do think it was best they split up. She was too career focused in my opinion and should have kept a better eye on maintaining a lovely home. Of course, you must excuse my old-fashioned-ness my dear, I know you young people have very different ideas than my day." Lala said, picking up a tiny crystal hummingbird on the bookcase and looking at it appraisingly.

After another half hour of informing me of their lives and the community, Lala suddenly looked at me and said quite seriously, "Now when he was married, they were busy but always managed to be involved in the community. They never missed one of our monthly get-togethers. Of course, I excused Mark's absences after his divorce, but I insist---absolutely insist that you two come to our next one!"

"It's a potluck!" Tibby said enthusiastically. "I'll mail you an invitation."

"Mail?" I asked blankly.

"Oh yes, I do feel that is much more classy, don't you?" Tibby waved a jeweled hand.

Suddenly, I didn't think it was wise to mention that was expecting Mark's baby prior to being married to him. Would be example of the most un-classy of classiness. Must remind self to fit into Mark's community.

"When _is_ the Big Day?" Lala pressed my hand.

"Er…soon, I think." I answered nervously.

"Lala!" Tibby exclaimed in manner of having miniature stroke. "We must head back! We're missing the beginning of _The Bachelor!"_

"Oh, Queen Margaret's hat! We must head back!" Lala jumped up quietly agilely from the sofa. "I am dreadfully sorry to be leaving like this, my dear, but priorities are priorities!" she gave me a wink.

**Friday 8th, April**

_Doctor's visits: 1 Boxes left to unpack: 7 Morning sicknesses: 3_

**3:00 p.m.** Off work early because of doctor's appointment. Mark couldn't make it because of important situation with opponent's lawyer, but promised to be home early so could tell him all the details.

Got referred to Dr. Evans by Magda who said he was v. experienced and have had years of practice. Goody.

Was in waiting room for quite a bit, but chatted with another Mum-to-be who confided in me that baby was not husband's, but from her lover. V. startled by information so politely feigned interest in begonia plant nearby.

**6:00 p.m.** Life in Mark's house is v. different and will take some getting used to. Hardly have chance to be also as butler always seem to be popping out in the most random places. Was hanging up some clothes in Mark's closet (he has the largest collection of suits I have ever seen…though I must say I haven't seen many. Let's see, there's Dad's and Uncle Geoffrey's only because he was proudly showing off his new closet shelves at Easter five years ago and of course, Tom's lovely one Dolce Gabbana suit of which he wore to important dinners after his one hit song) when noticed a very mysterious old box in the back of Mark's closet.

Was just about to reach for it when Marvin the Butler suddenly appeared behind me and said, "Would Madam like veal or duck for supper?"

The thought of either was about to send me heading to the loos and an unpleasantness tingled in my stomach warning another dose of morning sickness.

"Er, Marvin could you please prepare something light and er…a bit on the non-aroma wafting side?" I asked.

"Of course, Madam." Marvin said sincerely. "And would Madam like me to give Ms. McHenry and Ms. Washington an RSVP to their dinner party next Thursday?"

"Oh! Oh…of course, er…let me go write an RSVP now and send it off to them." I said, proud at self for being on top of things. Mark would surely like that.

**7:00 p.m.** Hmm, Mark's still not home. Surely this is not considered 'early.'

**7:20 p.m.** Marvin asked if I would like supper, but I told him I was waiting for Mark.

**7: 45 p.m.** Where is he?

**8:05 p.m.** Bloody Mark Darcy is late and doesn't even bother calling me! Who does he think he is, being all considerate and caring last night and thinking of little boys and girls' names when he can't even bother to call the child's mother! Had sudden vision of self pouring glass after glass of Chardonnay wearing a long expensive gown and half a dozen children running around in the background, breaking things.

**9:00 p.m.** Mark Darcy finally walked in a quarter to nine and calmly put aside his briefcase and loosened his tie. He didn't seem to see me sitting on the sofa until he turned and headed for the dining room.

"Bridget! I nearly didn't see you! How was supper?"

I growled.

"Was it that awful?" he asked confusedly. "Perhaps I shall ask Marvin to change the menu."

"Well it's a fine day when the father of your child can't muster up the time to let his fiancée know when he'll be home!" I spat out, then a flood of emotions running through me, I marched upstairs into a random white room and slammed the door.

**9: 10 p.m.** Found self staring at a very white room with very white furniture and large oil paintings. Heard Mark's footsteps up the stairs and disappear into a room. Then heard him open and close another door. Then he tried the door that was locked and knocked, "Bridget? What is going on? I come home after a hell of a day's work hoping to have supper and talk to you---"

"Oh, so that's all I am now? A conversation box to go with your hot meal?" I shot hotly, feeling like crap and wondering if I could find the phone and call Shazzer without the possibility of Marvin poking his head around the corner.

There was a pause. "That's not what I meant," Mark said stiffly. "What I---look, will you just come out so we can be civilized?"

Civilized! Humph!

"If you want me to be hoity toity why don't you visit Lala next door?" I suggested through the wall.

"What?"

"LALA!"

I heard a long sigh. Finally he spoke, "Look, I am going downstairs to have a bit of supper, I hope you can join me and we can talk face to face." He waited a bit and then, I heard him descend down the stairs. A tear trickled down my cheek.


	16. Saturday 10th, April

**Saturday 10th April**

**9:30 a.m.** At breakfast, decided to be mature and descended downstairs to dining area to join Mark. Had spent night in guestroom actually, which was lonely not to mention awkward due to large oil painting of unknown male figure donned in last century ruffled shirt and suit whose eyes seemed to stare into me, unblinkingly.

**9: 45 a.m.** So far the only verbal exchanges that occurred between Mark and myself are, "butter?" (him, holding out the butter at his end of the table) and "no, thanks." (me).

**10:00 a.m.** Mark has been reading the paper. At least I think he is, except he hasn't turned the pages once. Wish I could've been distracted by something as well except I didn't have any reading material so I contented myself in staring at the scenery outside. Can spot Tibby refilling her bird feeder next door. She was sporting a straw hat with a feather sticking out. Wonder if feathers were her fashion.

**10: 05 a.m.** "Your mobile, madam." Marvin handed it to me.

"Hello?"

"Darling! You know that you left the wonderful oven mitts I bought you here over Easter? I'll just pop in and drop them off for you, won't I?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Um, no, Mum, that would be quite unnecessary---" saw Mark suppress a sigh (or was it a laugh?) across the table.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. Besides, Elaine Darcy is coming over in a bit and we'll all come after lunch---the whole family!"

_Oh, God. _

"Now is really not the best time----I um, I am not feeling wel----" immediately switched direction as Mum started to suggest bringing over soup and probably a suitcase of clothes to stay for the week. "I mean, that I need some quiet since Mark—" his name sounded strangely foreign to my lips. "Need to work in his office anyway." I finished lamely.

Mark had not looked up from his paper.

"Durrr! Always all work and no play, is he? Well, we'll just see about that. Now don't you worry, you won't have to worry about a thing. We'll pop in, pop out and leave you alone. See you, my dear!" She hung up.

Ugh.

"I suppose we're going to receive all the Joneses in the country this afternoon." Mark said after a pause. He folded up his paper and finished his coffee.

A small indeterminate noise escaped my mouth.

"Well," he said. "I should go into my office now and catch up on my work, make it a bit convincing when they do come around?"

_Noooo!_ Stay here with me! Let us not behave as Linton and Cathy who lived more as relatives than lovers---though, interestingly enough, they were relatives. Ugh, must brush thought off mind before imagining creepier things.

As Mark was about to exit the room in a stiff, formal manner, I suddenly spoke out, "Is this how it's going to be then?"

He paused, his back still unturned. After a long silence, he asked, "What did I do last night?"

"You…you came home…late." I said, realizing how pathetic I sounded.

He turned to face me. "Yes, I was unfortunately meeting with Amnesty and the Indonesians so you would have to forgive. Although, in my credit I did phone and I expect you to have gone ahead with supper."

"I didn't…receive any calls." I said surprisingly and determinately.

"Oh? Well, I phoned your mobile directly and left a message."

Looked at mobile pressed in my palm and saw small voicemail icon lit up on the top.

"Look," Mark said in a restrained voice. "Bridget, do you think…that we could give this a try without one of us losing trust in the other?"

We both looked at each other then and a spiral of emotions melted all the anger and frustration of last night. He smiled.

"Shall I take the dishes back to the kitchen now sir, madam?" Marvin broke the silence which made us both jump slightly.

**11:00 a.m.** I had informed Mark about my meeting Tibby and Lala. His response was a groan. We had a lovely talk while he helped me unpack the rest of the boxes. Then he received a call from Giles and disappeared into his office when the doorbell rang.

Doom!

Marvin answered the door and I fully expected a parade of family members holding various objects (one including a set of oven mitts) coming into the hall, but instead found self face to face with Tom and Shazzer.

Was all smiles until realized they were not in the most chipper of spirits.

"Has our faithful crowd of four dwindled down to three and now just two, simply due to the fact that Smug Marrieds has expanded its membership to welcome two more?" Tom demanded, hands on hips.

"I am not a Smug Married. You must be married to be considered one," I defended myself hastily.

"I see, which is why you haven't responded to our phone calls or joined us for a bit of supper?" Shazzer hissed. "Do we look like fuckwits or what?"

"I'm really, really sorry," I apologized, but I've been unpacking and honestly, I didn't know where my mobile was half the time and I haven't been well…" I stopped at the look at their faces. "Not valid excuses, I know."

"You can make it up to us by coming to Brad's gallery opening tonight!" Tom suggested, taking a champagne glass offered by Marvin.

"Brad?"

"Tom's new interest, if you had been paying any attention." Shazzer answered, helping herself to a lemon tart.

"He is delightfully tanned without going into a salon. Unlike Jerome, who actually looks orange if you saw him in direct sunlight." Tom remarked. "By the way, where is Mark Darcy?"

**11:30 a.m.** Was v. relieved that Tom and Shazzer seemed to dissolve into happier spirits, but then doorbell rang again. Gahhh! Must be the family.

Into the room marched Mum, Elaine Darcy and Una at lead followed meekly by Dad, Admiral Darcy and Uncle Geoffrey.

"Well, so lovely to see you Ms. Jones, Mr. Jones!" Shazzer said enthusiastically. "Actually, Tom and I were about to head out to get his suit measured for an engagement tonight."

She and Tom exchanged glances, gave me an apologetic look and disappeared.

Oh, bugger. Mark has still not emerged from his office so was left to deal with company all by myself. Wonder why he was taking so long. Perhaps he had decidedly miss out on our little party?

Oh, shut up, Bridget. Didn't just promise Mark to be more trustworthy?

"So where's Mark?" Elaine asked right away after accepting a drink from Marvin.

"Um…he's in his office. I'll…go get him." I volunteered.

**11: 35 a.m.** Found Mark amidst a huge stack of papers in his office looking harried.

"What's wrong?"

"I think…I may have lost my divorce papers." He said rather apologetically, looking at my face.

"Divorce papers?"

"Yes, I've held on to it for safe keeping since my wife---my ex-wife, was busy executing a large mob of lawyers to the latest court meeting and threatening to burn everything I owned, but I had the original draft of settlement terms and I can't seem to bloody find it. She wants to re-discuss our terms and draw up a custody agreement."

"Custody?" my mouth felt dry. I noticed he said 'wife' before correctly himself.

"Ah-ha!" he said triumphantly, holding up a red file. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"I just….well, the family is here. Your mother asked where you were."

"Oh, I see. Well, we shall go and join them, shouldn't we?" He took my hand and we headed to the hall. "By the way, Bridget." Mark turned to look at me rather anxiously. "You…you won't tell my mother about Olivia, will you? I haven't found the right moment to tell her yet."

I shook my head. "Of course not, that's your business Mark."

He kissed me and we went out as two brave souls marching off to war.

**11:00 p.m. Shazzer's flat.**

"You don't think it means anything, do you? That he said 'wife' before correcting himself?" I swallowed a spoonful of Rocky Road.

"Well, look at it this way," Shazzer said carefully. "He might not be thinking straight and he was looking for divorce papers so he was probably unconsciously reminded of his marriage."

"Exactly!" Jude reached for a spoon and dug into my ice cream pint.

"What's she like anyway? Insect? Vixen? All of the above?" Shazzer probed.

"She wears pantyhose all the time. And her hair doesn't move." I answered.

"I have an idea! Let's stop talking about stick-insects and pop in Thelma and Louise." Jude scrambled for the video rack.

"I'll go get some more chocolate. Bugger, it's not fun not being able to pour Chardonnay down our throats." Shazzer went to the kitchen.

The phone rang and Jude answered while giggling at me, "Hello, you've reached Agony Aunt's hotline---oh fuck, hello Mark. I was just---"

"Give that to me!" I said, reaching for the receiver. "Hello? Mark?"

"Bridget, do you have any idea how disappointed I am?" Mark asked in a grave tone.

"Oh, I…I was just watching Thelma and Louise with Shazzer and Jude."

"Well, when you are quite done with your festivities will you hurry home so I can shag the daylights out of you," Mark said rather impatiently.

Mark and I had not shagged in exactly 10 days, 7 hours and give or take 20 minutes. I peeked at Jude who was engrossed in the film and Shazzer who emerged from the kitchen with two boxes of Cadbury.

"What's that, Mark? You're feeling ill?" I said. "I should be right over."

As I hung up the phone, Shazzer said, "You're going to shag him, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not," I said with as much dignity as I can muster.

"Oh, go and let her have her man," Jude interrupted. "She's been out of it all night."

**12: 17 a.m.** Mark Darcy is a Sex God. Twice.


	17. Part 4: Ugh

**Thursday 15th, April**

_Bags of spinach: 5, Burned walnuts: A lot, Pieces of chocolate consumed during stressful cooking: 21_

**2 p.m.** Cannot believe this. Potluck dinner preparation has turned into nightmare. The dress-code (yes, there is an actual dress-code) is 'upscale casual' which translates to 'it's bloody classy, but tone is implied not shoved down throats.' Have decided to make Spinach salad with duck confit and roasted walnuts. Simple enough, I think, except walnuts keep burning up instead of toasting nicely.

**2: 30 p.m.** Call from Mark. "Er…Bridget, you do realize that Marvin is there to help you should you need anything? I know that cooking can be very stressful and to tell you the truth, nobody really cooks their own dishes to these dinners," he laughed. "Actually, Marvin used to make our potluck dishes all the time. Christine couldn't tell the difference between cornstarch and flour."

Hmm. V. lovely of him to be giving me advice, but v. unnecessary for him to mention the C word.

**4 p.m.** Emergency apparel crisis. What to wear? What deems to be "upscale casual" anyway? Perhaps should Google images.

**4: 30 p.m.** Mmm…Marvin has made lovely sweet raisin buns and sticky toffee pudding. Must not be too dependent on him though. Must remain independent and good example of multi-tasking modern woman. Bridge Jones is super-wife! Then…super-mum!

**6 p.m.** Hair crisis. Must appear calm with lots of inner poise, radiant as Mark's fiancée, not unkempt and without pantyhose. What was it that Gandhi once said? "Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed." Yes, that is what I shall do now.

Maybe should do some yoga for some relaxation.

**6:30 p.m.** Buggar! Hair is still crap.

**7 p.m.** "Tibby just had botox, darling," Lala lowered her voice to a whisper as she greeted Mark and myself. "Mind you not ask her about it, but pretend it's her natural face."

The entire room was full of pearls and stiff collars. There was a hint of gossip whispering around, not to be entirely unexpected, I suppose.

"You must be Bridget," a heavy lidded dark brunette extended a hand. She pointed to a man beside her, whom I presumed to be her husband. "I'm Brenda and this is Corey, he worked with Mark on some Swedish International Seminar last summer----"

"Sports injury liability workshop," Corey murmured.

"---and he has just bought me this for our anniversary, isn't it precious?" she flashed a beautiful sparkling ring in my face, her face just fishing for compliments.

"It's beautiful," I said honestly.

She swooned and then took my arm. "That's Vanessa Cleary," Brenda said quietly, indicating a rather porky woman holding a glass of champagne, giving a half attempted smile at no one in particular. "She is _rarely _sober and that's her third drink in her hand now. Mr. Cleary comes home on Thursdays and Saturdays, _only_. Makes you wonder, don't you think? I think he refuses to divorce her because he works for her father. Dreadful situation."

**7: 20 p.m. **Was seated towards the end of a long, heavily decorated dining table complete with swan-folded napkins and long candles set in silver candle holders.

"So Bridget, tell us how you met Mark," Lala inquired.

"We met at my mother's annual turkey curry buffet, actually," I beamed.

"Is that a sort of membership affair?" Mr. Cleary asked.

"It's like Julie's tennis club, right?" another spoke up, popping a scallop in her mouth.

"Um…no." I answered, puzzled.

"It's more like an annual…post-holiday gathering where various family members and friends are reunited and forced to comply with the strict dress code: hand-knitted sweaters." Mark spoke up, cutting his steak.

"Ahh," they all chorused in agreement, but clearly having no idea what Mark was referring to.

"Do try some wine, my dear," Tibby spoke with oddly tight face. Must be the Botox. She could hardly smile without looking like plastic. "It's from my son's own winery."

"Actually, I've been trying to cut down on alcohol because, I heard that you…sleep better," I answered.

"That's a good one!" Vanessa raised her glass, giving me a huge wink. "Hear, hear!"

They all raised their glasses. Good grief.

Ended up raising own glass and then putting it to lips, pretending to take a sip. Mark looked over in slight alarm.

"Bridget, you don't have to, you know," he said in an undertone. "I'm sure they will understand."

"Oh, of course," I said happily. "It's merely a game of faux-pas and pas."

He looked confused, but smiled at me.

**Saturday 17th, April**

**10 a.m**. V. V. happy. Mark surprised me yesterday with two teddy bears. One has a pink bow and one has a blue one. So cute. Spent morning being lazy and sleeping in. Morning sickness slightly better, but won't be surprised if it returns mid-day. Placed the teddy bears on nightstand. They are absolutely adorable.

**10: 30 a.m.** Mark says he is flying to Wales next weekend to visit Olivia. Slightly upset, but thought of positive aspects. He is getting lots of experience of being a father and it is v. sweet to see him as a devoted and caring parent.

"Won't you come with me, Bridget?" Mark rubbed my hand, looking into my eyes. "Now that Olivia is part of the family, it'll be good for her to get used to us."

"Well, Mark," I began, not exactly warm to the idea, though not exactly sure why. "I am not…well, I promised Jude that I'll go shopping with her. It's v. important. She hasn't bought anything for her baby and I think it'll be a good, learning experience for me."

Mark looked disappointed, but didn't press on.

We spent the rest of the morning looking at baby catalogs for fun. Catalogs do not actually sell babies, but rather cribs, high-chairs and so forth.

Mark was v. keen on football themed boy's room and I had to remind him that it'll be good for us to know whether our little one is a boy or a girl first. Then we laughed and was actually in progress of a v. promising shag when the doorbell rang.

Put on respectable clothes and went downstairs to meet Mum and Elaine Darcy. Unfortunately, they didn't look in the most happy of spirits.

"Hello, mother. Mrs. Jones." Mark greeted. I searched his face for signs of comprehension, but concluded that he had no idea why they are here.

"Well, it's a beautiful morning, Mark and we decided to come over and have lunch. There are important matters to discuss," Elaine said briskly. "Where's Marvin? I'll need a cup of strong tea."

Mark and I sat down facing Mum and Elaine across table. Suddenly felt like I was being questioned in court. Any minute now, a judge will pop up and I will have to confess that I hated the idea that Mark has another child.

"I'll get straight to the point," Elaine began. "I was going to surprise you two by putting your names down for the Academy."

"Absolutely not!" Mum piped up. "Una and I insist on family care and nurturing."

"What---?" I asked, not entirely understanding.

"The Morris Academy for boys and girls, some what like a pre-school," Mark explained. "Mother, don't you think it's a bit early to---"

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking to you, Mark Darcy!" Elaine said rather sternly.

Mark immediately shut up.

"You went to the Academy and look how well you turned out. I will not allow my grandchild to sit at home wasting away the finest years of mind development."

"Wasting away?" Mum practically shrieked. "A child needs nurturing and love, not some militaristic, whistle blowing, line formation drills before he can barely tie his shoes!"

Felt slightly sick. This is what they came for? I haven't even thought of the baby's name and here they were planning where the baby should stay and go to school? Obviously agreed with Mum's reasoning (for the first time), but also did not like the idea of her and Una taking care of baby. Surely the child is much too young to be exposed to fights over lumpy-gravy and awkward parties.

"I think," Mark stole a glance at me. I gave him a pleading look. "Bridget and I haven't really discussed this and we would much rather plan for ourselves."

"Of course you should make the plans yourselves," Mum said encouragingly. "But you know that Una and I will be more than happy to take care of your little one while you two are working!"

"Well, you'll certainly hire a nanny before you do anything else, won't you?" Elaine demanded, cutting her quiche.

"Yes…yes, of course. And you know that I respect the Morris Academy very much, mother. However, I do think Bridget and I might have…different ideas and we would have to discuss them first." Mark gave me another look and took my hand. I felt comforted, but still sick.

Both Mum and Elaine became silent. We ate lunch and Mark appeared very uncomfortable. Elaine's lips were very tight. Mum scoffed at the lobster salad and refused to take a bite. I knew what she was thinking, _showy._ But I couldn't say anything for fear of vomiting.

Then Mum suddenly began talking about a mini-holiday she and Una were planning for America.

Mark politely inquired her wishes for going and she answered, "I must see _Chicago_. The last time I went out of the country was two years ago and it's been much too long," Mum answered with a rather dignified air that I haven't heard in a while. "I think it's rather important to get out of England once in a while and see other cultures. You know that Americans wear sunglasses everywhere? It's a very popular thing to do."

Ugh, couldn't take another bite of food. And at that instant, I ran to the kitchen sink and vomited. Was it being sick physically or stress over Mum and Elaine's suggestions? Wouldn't know.

"That's it!" Mum said happily, glad for an excuse to stay. "I'll take care of you. Now off to bed!"

Buggar.


End file.
